


Film Noir

by VicenteValtieri



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Corruption, Film Noir, Infidelity, M/M, Mystery, Prostitution, Shareware, Soulmates, Spark Mates, Underage Prostitution, Unhealthy Relationships, cops and robbers, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-02-25 20:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13220235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicenteValtieri/pseuds/VicenteValtieri
Summary: Orion Pax has been looking forward to the day he would find his spark mate for as long as he's been alive, but when said Sparkmate turns out to be the spiteful and bitter Starscream, he's more than a little disappointed. Love dashed, he turns his resources to his career which puts him on the trail of the Decepticons - A mob of dangerous criminals and scum with ties to the highest levels of government. Starscream knows more than he's letting on, if only they could work together.





	1. Spark Mate

Orion Pax read the words imprinted on his inner thigh again. “It means ‘none of your business…’” He whispered. The first words his sparkmate was supposed to say to him and they sounded angry, or offended. Standing up from his berth, he poured himself a cube of energon and went to the window, musing to himself. 

Every Cybertronian had words printed somewhere on their frame: The first words their sparkmate would say to them. Their perfect match. For every Cybertronian, there was someone. Someone waiting, reading the words on their frame and looking up at the sky, waiting. Waiting for that perfect moment of bliss when they would recognize their sparkmate.

Orion sighed, touching his badge. It was an evening shift tonight: A patrol in the bad side of town. No chance to walk Iacon, to hope someone might respond to his query with the snappish response on his thigh. He had tried to imagine who might belong to the words, who might respond, but it was hard. A hurried femme having a bad day? Someone who had fallen down and didn’t want help getting up? He hoped it was someone who could Carry, but it was all right if he or she couldn’t. Orion was a Sire mech, but they could adopt if necessary.

Not everyone was meant to bring new life into the world.

It couldn’t be one of the Praxian racers, because they were just too small, incompatible with his own Convoy frame. Ditto Seekers – and who wanted to be one of their Sparkmates – but maybe he could manage a shuttle or a tank. It wasn’t likely to be a tank. There were very few in Iacon.

Orion stepped out of his apartment and onto the street, transforming. Time to pick up his partner and get to work. He thrived on this: Hard work keeping his city safe, investigating crimes or just patrolling. At the moment, they were looking for members of the Cartwheels Gang, who were bringing tainted Syk into the city.

Prowl was waiting when he arrived at the station. “You’re almost late, Orion. Staring at your sparkmate mark again?”

“You have no romance, Prowl.” Orion replied with a chuckle. “And I wasn’t late so it doesn’t matter.”

“This obsession with your sparkmate is getting a little ridiculous.” Prowl’s own spark mark was on his back, a simple statement: “Well, you like music?”

“As if I don’t see you looking over your shoulder at the mirror in the washracks.” Orion chuckled, nudging Prowl with his tires.

“That’s different!” The police officer protested. “I do not moon over my spark mark.”

“Hmm… Yeah, you do.”

“Hmph. Let’s just get on patrol.”

They continued to argue as they drove the streets of downtown Iacon, looking for any sign of the Cartwheels. This was the Red Light District, where dance clubs, bars, and shareware littered the streets. At the edges were a few establishments that catered to the police, but for the most part, officers and investigators were unwelcome intruders into this world of bright lights and music.

Orion kept his optics peeled, but didn’t see anything as they patrolled. This was fishing and they new it. The Cartwheels were deep underground. Too deep to let so much as a pede show on the surface. Of course, the gang had to show themselves eventually, if only to conduct business. Credits didn’t fall from the sky.

“This is useless. We’re not going to see anything tonight.” Prowl groaned. 

“Unless… We could try going into a few of the clubs, ask some questions.”

“We’d be made as officers before we set foot in them. We need an inside mech. Someone who can help us.” Prowl hissed softly between his denteas. “If we could only find a trustworthy dancer or a bartender. Someone who can walk where we can’t and keep their optics out.”

“Heh. Good luck with that.” Orion snorted. “Everyone here is base scum and would sell their own mother for a cut of creds.”

“Look out!” Prowl hissed, braking suddenly. A shareware – probably walking to his corner - had slipped on a patch of icy walkway and fell out into traffic. 

Orion’s brakes screeched and he had to pitch himself forward into a transformation to avoid the Seeker. Standing up, he looked down. The Seeker’s spark mark was on the back of one wing. Without thinking, he read it aloud. “What the Pit does that mean…?”

“It means, ‘mind your own business!’” The Seeker screeched back, trying to get to his pedes. “Racing around like a maniac in this weather… it’s a wonder you haven’t killed someone.”

“Easy.” Prowl told the Seeker while Orion’s jaw dropped open and his optics dropped to the writing on his thigh. It was fading into dark blue plating as he watched. “We’re not looking for trouble.”

“No.” Orion whispered. The Seeker’s mark was disappearing too. “No! Not… Not you!”

The Seeker hissed, clutching his shoulder where he had fallen. “Believe me, I’m not charmed either.” He stared up at the convoy, who towered over him. “I had hoped for a nice mech from Vos.”

“Anyone except you!” Orion snapped, clutching his helm. “A Seeker! And a Shareware at that!”

“Excuse you! I am a Dancer, not a Shareware!” The Seeker hissed.

Before Orion could retort, Prowl grabbed his arm, looking around at the staring optics on both of them. “Orion, you are attracting attention.” He hissed. “Get your mate off the street and scream at him in private.”

“He’s not-“ 

Prowl shook his helm, deadly serious. “He is.”

“Come on.” Orion hissed, grabbing the Seeker by the arm.

“I am not going anywhere with you until I know your name!” The Seeker began to struggle. His plating was burning warm beneath Orion’s fingers and a flicker of arousal shot through the convoy.

“If we delay, we’re not going to make it anywhere decent!” Orion hissed right back, tugging him along. “And it’s Orion Pax – Detective.”

“Oo, fancy.” The Seeker practically tripped over his own pedes as he stumbled after the detective. “Starscream, at your service.”

“A name to match a voice.” Orion sniped back as he pulled Starscream onto a monorail, swiping his ride card.

“You’re not such a prize yourself, brute!” Starscream hissed as he held onto Orion’s arm. He wasn’t tall enough to reach the servo loops. Orion was sure they made quite the picture for the other riders as they hissed and growled in each other’s faceplates. “I can’t go anywhere with you until I tell my aeriemate where I’m going!”

“Then comm him.” Orion hissed. “But we are not detouring to whatever hovel you call home so you can tell your aeriemate you’ve found your spark mate.”

Starscream stared out the window, presumably comming his aeriemate. “…Your Carrier would be scandalized.”

“What would yours think of you working as a Shareware?”

“I told you! I’m a dancer, not a shareware!” Starscream hissed. 

“And if I offered you a thousand creds to interface with me?”

The Seeker looked away. “My aeriemate is Carrying and we’re both trying to go to University. We need the credits.”

“University? For Seekers?” Orion snorted.

“That’s exactly the kind of reaction a small-minded police officer like you would have.” Starscream resentfully folded his arm over himself. “It’s our right to try and better ourselves.”

“And look how well that’s gone.”

“Shut up. I didn’t choose you!”

“Neither of us chose the other. Believe me, I would have gone for Prowl over you.”

“I would have chosen anyone over you!”

“I’m sure. With all the mechs you’ve been with, you’d have plenty to choose from.”

“Why you-!” Before Starscream could finish the thought, they reached Orion’s stop and he dragged the Seeker along with him towards his apartment. 

They were locked together at the lips almost before he threw open the door and pulled the Seeker inside.


	2. Self-Indulgence 1

Starscream looped a leg around Orion’s waist as the Convoy smeared his lippaint. “Fragger.” He told him when the kiss broke briefly. In response, Orion gripped the back of his helm and crushed their lipplates together again. He was sure to bruise in the morning.

Orion ripped Starscream away from his frame. “Are we going to be compatible?” He hissed, questioning with the last remnants of his control. 

“I’ve been a Shareware for most of my life.” Starscream hissed right back. “When I was thirteen, my guardians took me and Pharma to be modified for this. I can handle you.”

Later, when Orion’s processes could take that in, he would probably be horrified, but for now he was just glad he could sink his spike into the tiny Seeker without killing him. Their lipplates mashed together again, open this time and Orion thrust his glossa into Starscream’s mouth, exploring it. Starscream nipped the tip with his sharp denteas, which made his engine rev.

Orion palmed and petted the Seeker’s wings, pinching the tips. “Do these things fold down or something? They’re going to get in the way.” He stroked the bottoms, feeling Starscream arch against him. “Though I’m not arguing with what they’re doing.”

“Let go of me a minute.” Starscream tripped him back into a chair and braced his feet, stretching his arms above his head in a way that made his plating pop open, and emphasized his broad-slung hips and pectoral vents. With a shuddering click, his wings pulled in against his back.

With Orion seated, Starscream took back control. “Like what you see?” He put on a lascivious smile, twitching his hips slightly, dancing. “Having a Seeker for a sparkmate isn’t so bad, you’ll see.”

Orion braced himself against the edges of the chair as Starscream approached. “I never- I don’t- This isn’t-“

“Conventional?” Starscream leaned into him, setting his servos on Orion’s and leaning in. “Fantasized? Right? It’s so boring to be that way. You have a Seeker for a Sparkmate, Orion. Clearly, Primus doesn’t think you should be conventional.” He let his panels open, spark and array baring itself. “So let yourself enjoy this – Me.”

Orion’s servos went to the Seeker’s hips. “…No one can know about this. If it gets out at the precinct, I’ll be ruined.”

“Hmph. Should have known it’d be too much to ask that you not be ashamed of me.” Starscream undulated his hips, putting himself on display. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Orion’s optics were locked on the bouncing valve in front of him. It was pale grey, unlike the rest of his gunmetal protoform, and red and blue biolights striped it all the way up to his anterior node, which was large and prominent compared to the valve, and pierced through with a silver ring. A jeweled stud hung from it. He was fixed with a decidedly unholy desire and he crushed the Seeker’s lips to his in a hard kiss.

“Oh!” Starscream gasped. “Well, so much for conve-“ He panted and leaned over the convoy’s shoulders. “Oh, that’s so good!”

Orion gripped Starscream’s aft and grabbed his thighs, pushing them up onto his shoulders. The Seeker clutched the back of the chair for balance. “Oh! Please!”

Orion shut his optics as his glossa laved the warm, satin surface of the swelling outer lips. Oh, he had always wanted to do this. Just like a Vosnian kiss down under, eh? Primus, it was so much better than he imagined. Starscream bowing and bucking over him, the sweet, thick taste of lubricant coating his glossa. He could get used to having someone who would let him do this.

The stone from Starscream’s piercing clacked against his denteas and he nipped it, pulling. There was a cry from above and a spurt of warm fluid dribbled down his chin. The Seeker’s valve was practically crackling as he neared his overload. Orion pulled back and straightened Starscream, maneuvering him into his arms to carry the Seeker to berth. 

“Get on your back.” Starscream demanded, kicking out to try and take back control, pushing Orion down to the berth.

Orion tossed the Seeker down. “Maybe later, hot wings.” He fumbled with his crotchplate and freed his spike. “For now, I have to get into that aft.”

“Oh, very well.” Starscream got to his servos and knees, pert aft up in the air, on display and offer. “Don’t worry, I’ve had a cervix cap installed for forever.” 

Orion hesitated when he measured his spike against Starscream’s frame. The head alone was too big for the Seeker to close his servo around, and it only got wider near the base.

“What’s the hold-up?” Starscream peered back over his shoulder.

“I’m…” Orion settled down on the side of the berth. “Huge.”

“You know, normally mechs have this reaction when they realize they’re too small. Let me get a look at the goods.” Starscream blew out a vent, sitting up and twisting slightly. “Besides, I thought you were too deep into spark-call to think.”

Orion muttered under his breath. “It’s not like that. I just… I’ve tried this before. With someone else, and they couldn’t handle it.”

“Well, you’re a very good size for a Convoy.” Starscream licked the tip of his spike and nibbled it a little, testing the ridges. “A healthy specimen, but not impossible. I had a tank who was twice your size once: He was a stretch near the danger zone, but you? Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Just enough girth right here-“ He patted the base of said spike “To make this absolutely delicious.”

Orion pounced on the Seeker, rolling him onto his back, and measured how deep his spike could go against the Seeker’s abdomen. Starscream laughed softly. “Seeing how you measure up? Go on, don’t keep me waiting any more. I feel this as badly as you do. C’mon. Pretty please?”

Orion groaned, lifted Starscream’s hips, and toyed with the head of his spike between those plush lips. When he found a good angle, he began pressing in. With a moan, he began pistoning in and out slowly, getting deeper everytime. Starscream’s array transformed a little more with each thrust, opening itself up to the invader. 

“Oh!~” Starscream trilled suddenly. “More! I won’t break!”

Orion’s engine growled and he picked the Seeker up, physically pulling him up and down his spike, not interested in prolonging this too much. 

“Please!” Starscream hissed, pulling himself close to Orion and undulating his hips over him, writhing like he was trying to pull overload from himself. “Yes! There! Harder!” 

Orion obeyed, unleashing his engines on the Seeker, who howled in pleasure and overloaded hard over his spike. As the valve’s calipers rolled, pulling overload from him, Orion exploded and filled Starscream’s internals with his transfluid.

Orion gently laid Starscream down on the berth and settled down next to him. He didn’t agree with Primus’s choice for him. In fact, he thought it was downright stupid, but… Starscream was dynamite in the sack, that was for certain. Even if he was sure to come with all sorts of problems, and perhaps they should talk… 

Starscream was asleep. He had curled up in Orion’s arm and just went to sleep. With a sigh, Orion pulled the covers up around them, trying to avoid the damp spot. Whether he was faking or not, he was cute when he was quiet.


	3. The Morning

In the morning, Orion woke first. Sliding out of berth, he made for the washracks and turned the water up to hot. Normally, people took a week off when they found their sparkmate, but he didn’t have time for that with the Cartwheels on the loose. Not to mention his sparkmate… wasn’t exactly someone he wanted to take a week off and spend more time with, unless they could find a better use for his mouth and grating voice than talking. 

Orion picked up a bottle of cleanser and a cloth and began working it into the seams of his helm. For a moment, the only sound in the world was the shower running.

The door opened and someone slipped into the washracks with him, snuggling into his side. “You left me in a cold berth alone? Shame on you…” Ugh. That voice was nasty. How had he managed to finish with that in his audials?

“I didn’t want to wake you. I have to go to work.” Orion cleaned his audials carefully, letting the fabric dull Starscream’s reply.

“Work? But… We just met each other…” He frowned and crossed his arms. “Fine. I guess I have University classes today anyway.”

“You were serious about that?” Orion gave him a side-long glance.

“I am this close to graduating!” Starscream held a thumb and forefinger together. “Two more weeks to go!”

“And who’s going to hire you when you graduate?” Orion hoped he had managed to muffle that snort.

“I’ve applied for a few research grants. I’m sure something will come up. With my work, how can they refuse me? I’m graduating with degrees in Physics, Engineering, and Chemistry!” The Seeker exclaimed.

Orion didn’t want to be hurtful, so he kept quiet. “Anyway, don’t you have a whatchamacallit to bring up to speed?”

“An aeriemate. It’s like a cousin.” Starscream explained, snatching the bottle of cleanser from Orion and lathering some up to run down his back. He traced Orion’s seams with his claws, scraping them out. “And speaking of… May I bring Pharma here to live with us? He’s very quiet, so he won’t bother us, and he’s graduating soon as well, but there’s the sparkling and then he wants to go to medical school…”

“Ugh. Starscream, I hate to say this, but I have a processor ache. Bring Pharma over, there’s a guest room he can have, but by Primus – Shut up!” Orion clutched his helm. Fortunately, Starscream went silent almost at once and stepped noticeably away, giving Orion’s circuits time to recover. “... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Starscream touched his Vox Box, working his throat carefully, then spoke in a much softer and more soothing tone, though it was full of hurt. “I think you meant it exactly like that.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I guess neither of us is going to get what we want.” Starscream sighed, turning his faceplates up into the solvent spray. The markings on his faceplates came off, pouring down the drain like the paint they were. Orion took a moment to study his faceplates.

“Why do you paint your face like that? You’re handsome the way you are. I’d even say beautiful.” He tried for a compliment.

“In an Interface club, you have to be careful.” Starscream replied. “You have to stand out, or no one pays attention to you. I have a whole array of costumes I’ve made for myself, and I create my own cosmetic paints. It’s all part of the show.”

“Uh-huh. So… I’m a police officer. A detective.”

“Primus, we’re from different worlds.” Starscream sighed. “In Vos, being a Shareware doesn’t come with the stigma it does here. It can be high-paying, even powerful. Pharma and I, though… We wanted more. We wanted an education.” His voice was slipping, rasping slightly at the edges. He brought it under control. 

“So, you were modified for this… at thirteen?”

Starscream shrugged, shaking out his wings to let the solvent run through the seams. “Best time for it. The mods take better and it’s safer over all.”

Orion glanced at him. “You didn’t want it, did you?”

“No, we didn’t, but it didn’t matter. Our parents were Shareware and we have cousins and siblings who still are.” Starscream leaned a bit back into Orion’s personal space and stretched, brushing their frames together in just the right way to kick-start some of Orion’s drives. “And knowing who you turned out to be, it’s probably a good thing.”

Orion turned and pressed Starscream into the shower wall. “Probably.” He kissed the Seeker and ran his lipplates between his denteas, nibbling, but not biting. Starscream tasted like energon and interface: Sweet and spicy with a touch of something clean. 

Starscream panted softly, running one heel up the back of Orion’s leg while the Convoy hoisted him up into the air, locking his legs behind his aft. “Ah! You’re so… tall.” He muttered something and dug his faceplates into Orion’s neckcables, nibbling.

“And you’re tiny.” Orion retorted, leaning down to get his mouth on the Seeker’s wing. “Primus must have lost his entire damn processor to match us.”

“Either that, or he knew you’d like a valve that’s always tight.” Starscream retorted, pressing his interface flush to Orion’s and letting his panel open, his valve leaving a lubricant-wet kiss on Orion’s own. “Come on, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“No, we don’t.” Orion checked his chronometer. They might have just enough. He released his spike and let it find its place inside of Starscream’s plush lips. The Seeker’s hot valve transformed and opened up again, more quickly this time now that his frame knew what to expect.

Starscream braced himself on the convoy’s shoulders and began rocking his hips side to side as Orion thrust, spiraling them when he could. “Ah! Ah, Orion, this is perfect…” He moaned into the Convoy’s audial, sex-rich voice sinfully hot and breathy.

Orion grunted and groaned softly, responding to his mate’s pleasure, servos locked on the Seeker’s tight aft and squeezing, engine roaring as he pounded into the tight flyer and bit down on his wing, denting the place. He stilled, kissing the bite mark almost in apology as Starscream relaxed slowly against him and leaned onto his windshield, laying his helm against the convoy’s shoulder. Orion stroked his spinal strut and cuddled him, forgetting for a moment everything horrid about him. The shower carried away the scent and evidence of their coupling, the sharp, dark dent on Starscream’s wing the only thing left.

When Orion set him down, Starscream was running his claws through the convoy’s seams, pulling out lines of muck that brushes just couldn’t reach as well as a careful Seeker. “There you go.” Starscream kissed his lipplates, going up on tip-pede and pulling himself the rest of the way, bracing against his shoulders. “Now I won’t be ashamed to be seen with you.”

Orion looked down at him, and pushed the Seeker away. “We will never be seen together. Never.” What was he going to tell his Creators when they inevitably came and found a Seeker in his home? Two Seekers at that.

Starscream stood under the shower as Orion dried off and he was still standing there when Orion grabbed his kit and walked out the door. When he heard the front door slam, Starscream finally stepped out to dry himself off and examine himself in a mirror that was hung so high it made him feel like a child. He didn’t belong in this apartment, it was clearly built for convoys, but this was home now.


	4. The Badge

As Starscream was heading out the door, his optics fell on a Detective’s badge. “Oh, Slag.”

 

Orion made it to work and signed in. Prowl was surprised to see him. “Orion? I thought you would be taking time off.”

“I would rather take time off when I have a vacation I want to go on.” Continuing around Prowl towards his desk, Orion pulled out the Cartwheels casefile from a passing cart and snapped it open to study it again. “We just need a lead.”

“Orion, no, you can’t just leave your spark mate alone in the apartment while you-“ Prowl chased after him, trying to talk to the Hero Cop as they were going.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t mention my spark mate at work, Prowl, or at all, if you can help it.” Orion instructed, turning into his cubicle and sitting down at the desk. “The last thing I need is that getting out.” Fortunately, it seemed that his habit of coming in early was going to work for him again. The beat cops were at assignment and the detectives were grabbing coffee in the break room. 

“You’re not- Orion, you’re not seriously ashamed of your spark mate?” Prowl leaned over his desk. “You’ve met your other half, and –“

“Prowl. Shush. I don’t want to talk about this.” Orion pinched his digits together. “Get me a coffee and a cigarette if you can find one.”

“You kicked that habit!” Prowl hissed at him. “I don’t understand you: You met your sparkmate, and it’s destroying you! You should be happy!”

“Well I’m not!” Orion stood up and shouted at his Praxian partner. “He’s nothing I would ever want! Nothing I would ever associate with! He’s scum of the earth and the lowest of the low and I would as soon frag a diseased, rusting-“

Starscream was in the door to his cubicle, holding a box and Orion’s badge. 

“Uhhh…” Orion’s processor went blank.

“You left your badge on the front table, and you didn’t take a lunch. I’ve made you two sandwiches and put a pear in there. Your refrigerator is practically empty, by the way, I’ve written a shopping list and I’ll take care of it tomorrow, but don’t expect much for dinner when you get home.” Starscream handed over the box and the badge. “I hope you choke on it.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Orion heavily set the box on his desk and pinned his badge on. 

“Now, if there’s nothing else you need, I’ll go back to associating with the lowest of the low and the scum of the earth.” Starscream nodded to Prowl. “See you this evening, darling.” He walked away sedately, folded wings slightly rattling with every step. 

Orion watched him go, then sat down heavily in his chair. “That would have been… embarrassing.”

“If he was as selfish and hateful as you are, it would have been.” Prowl snapped. “Forgetting your badge, abusing your spark mate… This isn’t like you, Orion. Where’s the mech who was dreaming of Starscream before you even knew who he was?”

“I found out who he was, and it turns out that Primus is making a joke of me.” Orion hissed. “When I had him sunk down on my spike this morning, I could hardly hunch over to kiss him.”

“Too much information, Orion!” Prowl sighed, rubbing his nasal vent. “You spend all your life mooning over your spark mark and now you’ve been handed a package you didn’t expect and you’re pouting like a child who didn’t get a Red Rider BB Gun for Christmas! Why don’t you try opening the package to see what’s inside before you throw it out?”

“Prowl. I would kindly like you to get me a damn cup of coffee and let me work my case!” Orion bellowed. 

Prowl backed off, shooting a glare over his shoulder, and Orion went back to leafing through the casefile. Damnable Seeker. Who did he think he was? Ugh. He should have been nicer to him. After all, he brought him a lunch and his badge when he left the damn thing behind. Ugh. He’d find a way to make it up to the bloody Seeker. What did Shareware like? Shiny things? Fine, he could find something shiny. Maybe he’d even go shopping and find some groceries to bring home. Make the mother hen happy, if that was possible.

Ugh. And he wouldn’t smoke. Not in front of Prowl at least, though he could go for one right about now. A Royal without the filter. Another thing he’d pick up on the way home that evening. Prowl couldn’t complain about his vices if they were conducted in privacy, in his own home.

Orion reached into his desk and pulled out a stick of gum, stuffing it between his denteas. It wasn’t a cigarette, but it would tide him over.

It was an unproductive and thoroughly lousy day. When he got out onto the street, he headed for the corner grocery to pick up a pack before heading towards one of the old Pawn shops in the East End. Something sparkly and affordable? He was bound to find it there.

Orion tried to light up one of the cigarettes as he was walking, but when he reached into his pockets for a lighter, he found he couldn’t find one. Bloody hell! Another thing he must have forgotten on his way out the door. Blast it to Pit. Stuffing the cigarette back into the package, he rammed it back into his pocket and continued on down the lane with his servos in his pockets and the brim of his hat pulled low over his optics. No one needed to see what a bad mood he was in: He was Iacon’s Hero Cop. People expected things of him. He had an image to maintain. Nothing would kill that better than snapping at someone for offering him a friendly greeting. Except, perhaps, having a Seeker Shareware for a Spark mate.


	5. Swindle's Place

Starscream met Pharma at the University Campus. The other Seeker was hunched over on a bench, wrapped up in a trench coat and stroking his cockpit. Starscream couldn’t blame them. The Dean was an animal. If he ever caught wind of what they did to keep frame and spark together, they’d be out before graduation, and they were this close, as Starscream had told Orion. “How did it go?” Pharma stood up, eagerly.

“What are you doing here, Pharma? You don’t have classes today.” They had arranged it that way, so someone could mind their tiny apartment and they would have privacy while they did homework. 

“I had to see you and I knew you wouldn’t want to come back to the apartment until the evening to pick up your things.” Pharma hurried along after Starscream. “And it’s so cold in that apartment. It’s better to be here, for the sparkling.”

“I’m not going to argue that.” Starscream sighed. “But you won’t ever have to go back to that old apartment again, Pharma. I’ve found my sparkmate, and he’s going to let you have a home with us.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t intrude like that. This is your honeymoon time!” Pharma was taller than Starscream by a few inches, with deep blue optics that contrasted with Starscream’s red.

Starscream snorted. “What honeymoon? I have the sparkmate no one could ever want, Pharma. He hates me.”

“No!” Pharma gave him a shocked look. “That can’t be!”

“According to him, I am the scum of the earth, the lowest of the low, and he would rather frag a rusting, diseased skiv.” Starscream sighed. “But he’s a Detective with a good-sized apartment and a spike that’s pretty much perfect.”

“I knew it couldn’t be all bad.” Pharma leapt on it, hugging his aeriemate. “And soon we’ll be graduating. Can you imagine what it would be like? To wear a cap and gown and walk up to the front, to receive our diplomas?”

“It’s too expensive, Pharma. We’ll be getting our diplomas by post after finals, you know that. No commencement for us, unfortunately.” Starscream sighed. “Can you imagine that? Just letting them see a pair of Seekers right there among all the stupid noble slag-suckers.”

“I know.” Pharma sighed wistfully. “But just getting our diplomas will be good enough. You’ll be able to get a real job, Starscream, and I’ll be accepted to medical school.”

“All our dreams, coming true.” Starscream sighed. “We’ll find your sparkmate soon, your sparkling will be born…”

“And we’ll be able to work while they go to school and then walk home down easy street with our heads held high.” Pharma replied. 

“But for now, you should go home and pack our things. I’ll come get you after classes.” Starscream nuzzled his cousin’s cheek and Pharma nuzzled him back. “See you.”

“Bye, Starscream.” Pharma fluttered his wings as he left and Starscream headed into the University.

 

The Pawn Shop Orion chose was Swindle’s place. Mostly because Swindle owed him a favor and a spoiled Shareware like Starscream wasn’t going to be easy to please. He’d have an optic for fakery after surrounding himself with it for so long. Especially if he was really graduating with degrees in “Physics, Engineering, and Chemistry.” Orion still had doubts about that story. It just seemed outlandish.

But he could get more than just a string of something shiny here at Swindle’s place. He could get information too, if the underhanded black marketer was in a good mood. Information on Starscream, probably. Perhaps, if he was lucky, information on the Cartwheels.

Swindle was a greasy little fellow who turned into an old transport and wore far too much greasy polish. He thought it made him look debonair, but it marked him out for a smooth talker far, far too easily. He was big-time, though, and if Orion ever got a whiff of solid evidence on his larger crimes, he would nail the little fast-talker to the wall.

The Pawn Shop was tiny and dusty. It felt oppressive and the air was thick.

“Orion. How’s my favorite gumshoe?” Swindle looked up from a necklace – probably stolen – that he was evaluating.

“Sick and tired.” Orion leaned on the counter and offered him a cigarette. “Got a light?”

“If the tobacco’s on you, the light’s on me.” Swindle pulled out a heavy, antique lighter and flicked it on, lighting his cigarette before he passed it to Orion to light his own. After a few drags, he waved the burning stick. “So, what brings you into my fine establishment, Orion? Need to trade a valuable for easy cash? Or looking to trade cash for some information?”

“Two items of business actually. First, the Cartwheels. What do you know about them?” Orion slid a credit chip towards Swindle. These bribes he wrote off as “Incidentals” on his financial report at the end of the month when he made an accounting for what he did with the department’s money.

Swindle picked up the chip and flipped it between his digits. “Low-lifes and scum bringing in some impure syk. I know where they’re hiding.”

“That was easy. What’s the catch?” Orion took another drag on his Royal. 

“No catch. You take ‘em out and it does a friend of mine a favor. No one profits off of impure syk in the underworld. It just means there’s fewer skivs out there to buy.” 

“Fine. I’ll take what I can get, I suppose. The second item of business: Shareware called Starscream. What do you know about him?” He tapped out a second cigarette for Swindle, who smoked like it was a race and he had bets on himself.

“Hmph. Saucy kind. Dynamite in the sack. Once paid two hundred credits to see what the fuss was about. Would do it again if I was ever near his club, but he insists that he’s just a Dancer now. Dunno what changed. Maybe it was his cousin getting knocked up with a customer.” Swindle took another drag. “Dances at a place called the Gilded Wing. It’s one of those half-decent joints where the high-rollers come to party. Doesn’t get paid well, though, for all that he’s one of the main attractions. Hazards of being a Seeker. Let me tell you, he has this display with a massive false spike that can make you squirt in your panel if you watch it.”

That sounded like an Interface club to Orion. If Swindle’s description was accurate, it was the kind where the people with disposable income came to get revved off and had back rooms where the dancers did a different kind of performing. “That kind of dancer, huh. He involved in any of the gangs?”

“Only in the sense that the mechs who can afford him liked to rent out that hot aft for the evening or drag him out to events to show off. He rakes in top dollar, but doesn’t see much of the take unless it’s an escort job. His club manager is cheating him, but what else is new? Seems to me he’s living a double life, trying to make better on himself and doesn’t want to make waves ‘cause he’s got too much to lose. He goes to the University, takes classes. Real smart cookie. Could go far someday, with a run of good luck.”

“Right. Sure.” Orion passed Swindle another chip. “As if. He’s a Seeker and this is Iacon.”

“You never know. Sometimes things shake out just right.” Swindle pointed out. “Just a warning, don’t play cards with him. I can’t tell if he cheats or he’s just too good, but he never loses.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Orion looked down into the case of jewelry beneath him.

“Ah, I just got some new pieces up for sale if you’d like to see.” Swindle put on his salesman grin and brought out the pallets of jewelry. “Perfect for your Carrier, or a colleague. Or… if you have a bit of sweetness on the side, while you’re waiting for that perfect match…”

“Something like that.” Orion cast an optic across the necklaces. “Nothing expensive. I’m a cop, not a politician.”

“You could be, if the mood ever struck you. Pit, I’d vote for you. I get the feeling you’d actually try to keep your campaign promises.” Swindle picked up a cameo pendant. “This is a nice piece right here. Vosnian Cameo. Hand-carved. I could let it go for… Oh, say two hundred creds.”

Orion cast an optic over the carved pendant. It was detailed and hung on a gold chain, but two hundred creds? “Swindle, we’ve known each other too long for this. That thing isn’t worth fifty and you know it.”

“You wound me! This is genuine gold here, and the detail is fine as can be.” Swindle held the cameo up to the light, what little there was.

A Vosnian cameo… Starscream was a Seeker from Vos. He might appreciate that, but with Swindle on the warpath to get the price up, he’d have to manage this carefully. “Right. Whatever. I’m looking for something a bit more sparkly than a cameo anyway.” Orion looked back down at the pallet. “What about that one with the gemstones arranged in a starburst?”

“Genuine Zircon, my friend!” Swindle rubbed his servos together. “It’s worth one hundred and fifty creds, but just because you’re one of my favorite gumshoes, I’ll let it go for one hundred.”

Orion made a soft sound of disbelief. “Uh-huh. One hundred for Zircon, Swindle? You’re reaching.”

“I’ll throw in the cameo as well!” Swindle must have bought the zircon pendant for less than twenty creds if he was willing to throw that deal together, but Orion was already tired of this game.

“Fine. The Zircon and the Cameo for one hundred creds.” It was a hefty sum, but he would get nothing better from the slag-sucking fence. “See you around, Swindle.”

“See you, Orion. Have fun with your sweetness.” Swindle smirked at his back as he left, trailing his second cigarette behind him. 

Orion sighed and headed for the corner grocery, counting his digits and limbs to be sure they were all there. Frag Swindle.


	6. Pharma's Aft

Starscream opened the door to Orion’s apartment using the spare key he had found in the kitchen. “Come in then, Pharma. Looks like Orion isn’t home yet.”

“I’ll be glad to put these boxes down.” Pharma stamped his pedes clear of the ice. “How are we so poor, but we have so much junk, Starscream?”

“We’re not poor, Pharma, we have to be careful with money, and we have so much junk because we don’t throw anything useful away.” Starscream reminded him, carrying a bag of canned food into the kitchen to stock it in the empty pantry shelves. Orion was not good at feeding himself, either that or he ate at cafes rather than home. “Just put it down on the table. We’ll sort through what should go into the Master bedroom and what needs to find a different place.”

“Are you going to the club this evening, Starscream?” Pharma questioned as they unpacked Starscream’s array of cosmetics and tools. Pharma’s had been folded over into the younger Seeker’s collection when he had sparked. It was too dangerous to work in his condition. 

“I suppose I will. No reason not to.” Starscream sighed. “Work will keep me out of Orion’s way.”

“He doesn’t really hate you… does he, Starscream?”

“I don’t know, Pharma. I think he can’t get used to the fact that I’m a Seeker.” Starscream picked out his jewelry. It was paste and resin, sparkly, but nothing real. Now that he had a mate and they wouldn’t have to pay for that apartment alone, perhaps he could save his pennies for something truly elegant.

“That isn’t fair to you! You can’t help that you’re a Seeker, just like he can’t help he’s a convoy!” Pharma fussed over his cockpit, which was slightly more forward than normal since Pharma was in the last stage of Carrying.

“I know it isn’t fair!” Starscream snapped at Pharma. “It is what it is, though, and we all have to live with it because we can’t change it. Maybe he’ll warm up to me, but for now, all I want is to graduate, not make waves, and get fragged every morning and evening by one of the best spikes of my life!”

Pharma cowered. “I’m sorry, Starscream. I was just trying to be sympathetic…”

“No, I’m sorry, Pharma.” Starscream wearily sighed. “Why don’t you see if you can find something to make for dinner? I’m starving.” He gathered up his things and carried them into the Master bedroom to find places for them.

Pharma poked around the kitchen, finding a few pears and some other fresh food, but it was mostly the stuff he and Starscream had brought in cans. 

 

Orion came through the door with a bag of groceries on one hip and struggling with his keys with the other, cursing under his breath. He dropped his badge onto the table and struggled out of his trench coat with one arm, hanging the hat on its hook. 

When he had finally taken off and tucked away his kit, Orion headed into the kitchen only to find an angel’s aft poking out of the pantry. It wasn’t Starscream’s tight backside, it was a larger, suppler one. When the rest of the person straightened up, Orion realized that this had to be Pharma. He was tricolor like Starscream, but had blue optics and was taller than his cousin. He was at kiss-height, which surprised Orion and he was lovely. 

Pharma yelped when he spotted Orion. “Who are you?”

“Orion. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I wasn’t expecting Starscream’s cousin to be…” He gestured to the closet. “Where is Starscream?”

“Starscream went to put his things in your berthroom.” Pharma explained, stacking some cans on the counter. “Oh, groceries! Thank you!” He dug into the bag, finding what Orion had bought and putting it away in various corners of the kitchen, hips swinging freely, jauntily as he walked. Then, Starscream made his reappearance.

“Orion.” Starscream was still miffed about the comments Orion had made about him to Prowl. He showed this by stoutly ignoring Orion.

Orion, who had been in deep contemplation of Pharma’s aft, found his attention re-directed. There was something addicting about Starscream and his presence that Pharma simply didn’t have. Probably the spark call.


	7. The Cameo

Orion followed Starscream back to the bedroom after Starscream had gathered up the last of his vanity supplies and carried them into the master washracks. “Starscream… About this morning.” Orion hated apologizing. He reached into his pocket and found one of the pagckages Swindle had wrapped up. “Look, I shouldn’t have been complaining about you to Prowl.”

“Is this an apology?” Starscream coldly asked, keeping his back turned as he arranged his cosmetics. He had filled old cosmetic containers with each of his own blends. Powder form glossy was less elegant than the spray-form, but it did its job. Starscream made a note to repurpose or build a proper vanity for himself as he stood at the counter, opening his glossy container and picking up the poof, batting it against his faceplates more aggressively than was necessary. 

“Uhh… Well, sorta… I mean…” Orion sighed, pinching his nasal vent.

Starscream looked at him in the mirror and sighed, picking up his favorite blended lippaint and scraping the applicator brush against the lip: A bright, shimmering red. “Our relationship is going to be very complicated if we can’t apologize to each other.”

“I just… Look, I don’t always think before speaking. Yesterday has been… a disappointment all around and I’d like it if we could just forget this morning.” Orion offered Starscream the package.

“Hmph. I’ll take that as an apology.” Starscream opened the package and the jewelry case. “Oh…”

“Yeah. Do that.” Orion turned away, laying out his kit on his dresser. “I know it’s not much, but I-“ He was tackled from the side by an amorous Seeker with a cameo around his neck. 

“It’s perfect, Orion, thank you.” Starscream kissed him hard. “A Vosnian cameo… where did you get this?”

“It was just a trinket I found in a pawn shop.” Orion kissed the Seeker back, servos coming up to support his hips as Starscream’s pedes dangled. He hadn’t meant to give the Seeker the cameo instead of the zircon pendant, but it seemed like Primus was giving him a helping hand if it appealed to Starscream so much. “Nothing special.”

Starscream hissed and his wings fluttered. “You have no idea how special this is. It’s a spark-carved cameo. It was made by someone who loved another person so much they had to express it using their very spark.”

“How on earth did it end up in a two-bit pawn shop?”

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t have any value to those who don’t know what it is.” Starscream kissed him again, deeply. “And I suppose that includes you, but still… Thank you.”

Orion stroked his servos up and down Starscream’s back, encouraging his wings to fold before he stumbled back and pinned the Seeker to the berth. That same addictive quality was at work again and he wanted the Seeker open and begging. There was something about Starscream that made Orion want to possess him. His spike throbbed when he got the Seeker on his back, pinning him to the berth by the shoulders. Starscream’s servos were wandering and pinching at his plating, claws dipping in to pluck at his wires. Orion was suddenly very aware of how lethal Starscream could be if he chose it.

It only made it so much hotter when he leaned down again and claimed his lips in a ferocious kiss, feeling Starscream’s legs spread open beneath him.

Later, he kept an arm wrapped possessively around the Seeker as he pulled from a Royal. He had found his lighter and ash tray just where he had left them, in the top drawer of his bedside table. Starscream was leaned into Orion with his optics half closed.

Orion looked down at him, cigarette hanging from two fingers. With care, he offered it to Starscream, placing it at the Seeker’s lipplates. Starscream nodded and took a deep drag on the Royal, exhaling the smoke expertly through his nasal vents. One servo was still playing with the cameo around his neck. 

“I have to go.” Starscream sighed, panels rearranging and sitting up. 

“Go?” Orion turned to look at him, finishing off the cigarette in a final drag and stubbing out the butt in the tray.

“I have work this evening. I’ll be back at about the fourth hour.” Starscream wiped himself down and touched his paint up, gathering a few of the tubes and the box of powdered glossy into his subspace. He kept his costumes at the interface club where he worked. There was a moment when he clearly considered taking his cameo off, but he left it hanging around his neck after considering further.

“…I thought you would give it up.” Orion frowned. 

“I don’t like it, but I’m going to keep working.” Starscream spritzed himself with some scents. “At least until I find a proper job in research.”

Orion snorted and sat up more against the headboard, lighting another Royal. “Right. Research. I’ll be in recharge when you get back.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning. I don’t have classes tomorrow, but I have to study for finals.” Starscream picked up his wallet and took out a few credits for a busfare.

“Hey.” Orion took out his metrocard and flicked it at the Seeker. “Use this. I have a spare.”

Starscream looked down at the small card and then slid it into a secret compartment in his wrist. “Thank you. See you in the morning.”

“See you.” Orion finished smoking his Royal and stood up, going back out into the apartment proper. 

Pharma was still cooking dinner. He looked up when Orion came in and sat at the breakfast bar. “Starscream just left.”

“He told me.” Orion watched Pharma working. “So, you’ve been together for a long time?”

“We’ve been almost as close as siblings since we were sparklings.” Pharma explained. “Starscream’s been taking care of me ever since we met. He’s younger than I am, but he’s always been… bolder. More mature. He wants so badly to further scientific research. I’m so glad he’s found his spark mate now. He deserves to be happy.”

“Yeah… spark mate.” Orion looked down at his servos, tapping. “What are you making?”

“Just some canned beef hash.” Pharma explained. “Starscream’s a better cook than I am, but I like to help out around the house because he works so hard.”

“Yeah… Shareware.” Primus, this was depressing.

“He’s a Dancer now. Just a dancer.” Pharma defended his aeriemate.

“It doesn’t matter. Look, I don’t want to hear more about… Starscream right now. What about you?”

“There’s not much to tell. I’m graduating soon. I hope to go to medical school afterwards. I’ve always wanted to be a surgeon.”

“Why? Seems like it’s nasty work.”

“So that I could heal people.” Pharma explained. “I want to help others to regain their strength more quickly.” He scooped out a spoonful of the hash and added it to a spoonful of mushy steamed vegetables from a pot. “There we go. Dinner. I hope it’s good.” He handed Orion a spoon before making a plate for himself.

The vegetables were practically flavorless and the has was burned. If Starscream had spent so long eating this, no wonder his figure was flawless. Orion looked up and cast the quieter Seeker a smile. “It’s delicious.”


	8. Tarn's Offer

Starscream sighed when he teeked the moisture in the air and he ran to keep from getting wet to the metro pick-up. The monorail was so nice compared to the bus and he swiped the card Orion had given him with pride. Watching the city pass from up here, in environmentally controlled comfort, was amazing. He had never seen it like this before.

Starscream settled into one of the smooth seats for the journey. He was far, far too short for the servoloops hanging from the ceiling. Settling in, he folded his servos in his lap and wished he had brought something to read.

Giving the monorail car a lazy look, he took in the other mechs who were riding. There was a lavender femme Convoy sitting with her nose in a book right next to a bright red Praxian racer who had an open newspaper over his faceplates. Neither were looking up from their entertainment. There were a few other convoys and one massive tank who was delicately holding another Convoy’s servo. A brief scan of their armor didn’t show any spark marks, but they weren’t curled together like most spark mates did. 

Starscream felt a brief surge of longing and went back to staring at the cityline. The monorail slowly filled and the Seeker was glad that Orion’s apartment was so far from the Red Light District. He wouldn’t have been able to get a seat otherwise. Some of the other passengers – mostly Convoys who had to stand – stared at him angrily, but there was a perfectly massive shuttle mech who had sat down at his side early on in the journey and they didn’t dare say anything.

Starscream finally stepped off of the monorail at its final stop. Most of the other passengers were getting off with him. Taking a back route, he reached his club and dressed himself up for the evening’s work. He was feeling sassy tonight: Time for La Dama Roja to make an appearance.

Starscream opened his locker. Each dancer had one to store their dancing clothes in. No one had anything particularly nice, not at this club, but everyone had their own style. The up-and-coming dancers were able to buy their costumes new, but they were transients. Going other places. Starscream, on the opposite end of the spectrum, made his costumes out of literal trash. Other dancers bought, borrowed, and traded for theirs, but Starscream had taken the crafty, cheap route. He recycled everything from basic masks to shards of glass to create his costumes. 

The La Dama Roja costume was a red-painted mask with matching feathers and a red and black crocheted winged fringe. He had unraveled the yarn for the fringe from a blanket too old and ratty to be useful and he and Pharma had woven it together. It was his favorite for that reason and his longest lasting. By now, La Dama had her own personality, unlike his other costumes. 

La Dama Roja was a crowd pleaser when she appeared, but Starscream didn’t often appear in this costume because he didn’t want its novelty to wear off. She took to the pole brazenly, but turned her back to the audience so that her best antics were invisible to them at first. She’d spin occasionally and dip, but she liked to keep them guessing at what she was doing. Perhaps it was her confidence and her shyness playing hot and cold with them, but the onlookers really enjoyed it when she showed off. It felt like more eyes were on Starscream than any other time when he did this.

And there were optics on him. He could feel them, even when he passed behind the curtain after his show. He still had to walk the floor, carry drinks from the bar to tables, but he wouldn’t have to get back up on stage until the end of the evening, and he felt like he would be in a sleepy, blue mood by then. 

Taking off the mask for La Dama and pulling the fringe off, he stowed them in his locker and shut the door soundly. When he turned, he nearly jumped out of his plating. There was a large, heavy-built, and instantly recognizable mech standing in the dressing room. Tarn had come to pay Starscream a visit.

Starscream froze. “Tarn.” He forced his vox box not to screech. “What brings you back here?”

“I’m looking to recruit someone.” Tarn was holding a smoking cigarette in one servo. “Why don’t you sit down with me and talk it over?”

Tarn had ties to the biggest crime family in the Underground: The Decepticons. There had been a time Starscream considered joining them, if only to make sure he and Pharma could live, but they had scraped by and he hadn’t had to. It was said that Tarn could cause a mech to have a spark attack with just a few words. On the surface, though, Tarn was a svelte, refined business mech who ran one of the largest and most prestigious casino and bordello combinations in Iacon. He rubbed elbows with Sentinel himself and Lord Protector Megatron was a frequent visitor.

Saying ‘no’ outright to Tarn was not an option. Starscream had to subtly convince the tank that he didn’t want to recruit him after all. “I- Would not be opposed. Let me tell my manager.” Starscream breathed, hoping to escape Tarn’s presence for a few moments.

“I’ve already made arrangements for us in one of the private rooms.” Tarn took Starscream’s elbow and steered him towards the back staircase.

“But- I’m not- I don’t do that anymore. I’m a Dancer.” Starscream tried to pull away from the firm grip. “I’m not a Shareware.”

“A shame. I would have paid you handsomely for some attention.” Tarn took a drag on his cigarette. “But nevertheless, the room will be private enough for our discussions.”

“But the mechs who work at your place have to do that! You don’t want me there, because I won’t!” Starscream tried to pull away again, vents coming raggedly as Tarn dragged him towards the staircase. 

“Really, Starscream, I thought you were made of sterner stuff. You have nothing to fear from being a shareware in my establishment. I do not require my mechs to show their sparks to clients.” Tarn’s servo on his arm compelled him up the stairs. It seemed further struggle would do no good. “So you will avoid your aeriemate’s unfortunate circumstance.”

In desperation, Starscream played his last card. “But I found my spark mate! I’m going to get out of this business!”

“Ah, yes… Your ill-advised dream of being a researcher.” There was an ill-disguised snort in Tarn’s voice. “You must realize that a Seeker will never be a scientist in Iacon. Especially not one from your background.”

“I have a right to better myself!” Starscream closed his optics, shaking his helm. “I don’t want to live like this!”

“Since when do the powers that be care about your rights?” Tarn compelled Starscream into a private room and forced him to sit down in a chair. He began to mix a cocktail. “You had best listen to me and take what I’m offering you. It will be the best offer you get.”

Defeated, Starscream snatched the glass from him. “Spare me the niceties then.” He wasn’t getting out of here without agreeing to dance for Tarn’s clientel. 

“I’m willing to offer you ten times the take you have here.” Tarn explained, pouring himself out straight high-grade. “What do you make? Five hundred a night?”

“One hundred.” Starscream quietly told the cocktail.

“Primus. You let yourself be cheated that badly?” Tarn snorted at the low price. “Then I’m willing to offer you fifty times what you make here. Five thousand credits a night, Starscream, and as you gain a following and experience, I’ll promote you. You’ll make even more. Plus a bonus for any services you render clients.”

“I won’t render services to clients, Tarn. I’m a Dancer now. Just a Dancer.” Starscream told his cocktail again. It seemed to be listening better than Tarn anyway.

“You’ll change your mind.” Tarn put a servo on the back of Starscream’s chair, leaning into his space. “All that erotic power, and you want to keep it to yourself? Tsk, tsk, selfish, Starscream.”

“I have to wait on the tables.” Starscream breathed. 

“No, you don’t.” Tarn stated almost harshly. “And when you come to work for me, you’ll never have to again. My mechs don’t wait the tables, Starscream, and they don’t dress themselves in an open room. Every one of my mechs has their own room, their name on the door, a key, and a washracks. They have luxuries and a place to rest in between shows or servicings. You’ll be so much better off.”

“I don’t want to stay in this life.” Starscream whispered. “I don’t want to turn tricks. I don’t want to be bought. I don’t want to sell myself.”

“Life rarely gives us what we want.” Tarn dropped his face to Starscream’s neck and began kissing it. “And others often take what they want. So, you will come to work for me, and the fact that you’ll make so much more at it is just an incidental.”

“…I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Not if you want to keep yourself and your aeriemate venting.” Tarn nipped one of his energon lines.

“…Then I will.” Starscream closed his optics. “I will.”


	9. The Morning After

Starscream pushed himself up. He must have fallen into recharge. No surprise really. Tanks were exhausting. They had far, far too much stamina and Tarn had been hammering on his aft for hours before he finished. The sun was rising over the horizon, lighting an empty bottle that had been engex and two dirty glasses. There was a thick envelope beside Starscream on the pillow. With a sigh, he picked it up and opened it. It was fat with credits and there was a note. At the sight of Tarn’s flowery handwriting, he almost threw up.

Starscream –  
I expect you to report for a fitting at Je Su Belle on Wednesday. However, you will not need to begin work until next month. I have forwarded you payment for your first two nights’ work to keep yourself until you report. There is also a bonus included for your services this evening and I took the liberty of drawing your last check for you.   
Forgive me for not waking you. You are as hypnotic asleep as you are waking-

Starscream crushed the note in his servos and threw it away from himself. He curled his knee to his cockpit and cradled his helm. The cameo hanging around his neck felt cold and heavy. “I don’t want this…” He whispered to himself. 

When he was done wallowing, Starscream stood up and staggered slightly when he felt the burn of over-stretched calipers between his legs. Willing himself upright, he went downstairs to clean himself off in the washrack in the dressing room. There was transfluid on his neck and patterned all the way up his back. Filthy tank. He stood under the running water for what felt like hours. On his way out, he looked into his locker, not his locker anymore, and saw the costume pieces he had worked on and over. The only thing he kept was the fringe he and Pharma had woven together. The rest of them, he piled on the bench down the middle of the room with a note: Free to take. He wouldn’t need these at Tarn’s Bordello: The Scarlet Flower. 

“…I don’t want this.” He whispered again as he made his way to the stop for the monorail. The car passed by the tall, red-painted building that he knew was the Scarlet Flower. Coolant tears gathered in his optics as he clutched the envelope in his servos.

He dropped his keys as soon as he was inside. His servos trembled as he tried to make his way through the apartment in the dim light. He kept bumping into furniture he couldn’t see through his tear-filled optics.

Orion was asleep when Starscream made his way to their berth. He unpacked his cosmetics, but his servos shook as he tried to arrange them and he ended up knocking them over. He wouldn’t need to make his own cosmetics at the Scarlet Flower either. Finally, Starscream made it to the berth, the envelope dropping from one servo and the credits inside scattering over the floor. Orion was laying on his side, back turned to the center of the bed, and Starscream sat down on the other side, tipping over into the pillow and shaking.

“You’re late…” Orion muttered, turning over. “It’s almost morning.”

“I was held up.” Starscream replied. “Not that it matters. It’s just work.”

“You sound odd. Are you all right?” The Detective questioned.

“Doesn’t matter. Just let me recharge.” Starscream turned his helm away.

Orion sat up and looked over his shoulder at the trembling Seeker. “…Fine. I’m going to make breakfast. You want anything?”

Starscream’s tanks growled. “…Sure.”

“I’ll bring you some eggs then. I can make those.” Orion reached out and patted the Seeker’s hip comfortingly. “I have to go to work. A bust is going to go down this afternoon, but I’ll be home early. I think. We can take Pharma and go to the cinema.”

“Fine with me.” Starscream muttered. 

“…All right.” Orion finally gathered up his morning kit and left. Starscream rolled the covers around himself like a cocoon to recharge. 

 

Pharma was stirring by the time Orion flipped over the bacon. “Orion… It’s really early.”

“Starscream woke me up when he climbed into berth.” Orion explained. “No, don’t stress yourself. I’m making breakfast.”

Pharma sat at the bar and watched. “That smells… really good.” He looked down at his servos. “I always burn bacon… I know Starscream doesn’t eat it because I do, but he never says anything.”

“Probably trying to be nice. Last night’s dinner wasn’t so bad. Needed a little salt, but nothing drastic.” Orion flipped out three servings of breakfast and covered one of them. 

“Really?” Pharma smiled. “Maybe I’m getting better.” He sighed, looking down at himself. “Though I should probably watch my figure.”

“No, no… You look great.” Orion flashed a smile at him and offered him a plate. “Sit and eat with me?”


	10. Prowl's Points

After breakfast with Pharma, Orion carried Starscream’s plate into the berthroom to leave it beside his bed. As he walked around the berth, he found the scattered credits leaking out of the envelope. Picking it up, he counted it subconsciously while stacking it back in the envelope. It was easily twenty-thousand credits. Primus.

He looked at the cocooned Seeker. What had Starscream done to earn this much money? He hadn’t seen this much in one place in all his vorns. Would the Seeker miss it…? No, no it wouldn’t be right. Hesitating slightly, he slipped the envelope under Starscream’s pillow where he would surely find it when he woke up and then patted the bundle slightly. Time to head to work. He gathered his kit, swung his trench coat about himself, and headed out into the weather. It was looking to be a long, cold, wet winter.

Prowl was waiting for him. “I’ve had officers on stake-out at the location you sent me. How was… your evening?” He asked over his comm-channel to avoid the other members of the team hearing.

“The evening was brilliant, and the morning was almost as good.” Orion walked with Prowl to get their SWAT armor and equipment for the raid. “But not for the same reason.”

“Really? What happened on the evening and in the morning that was so different?” Prowl questioned.

Orion made sure his side-arm was in working condition. “Well… In the evening, I made love with a lovely Seeker. Then, in the morning, I had breakfast with a lovely Seeker. Both pleasures, not quite the same.” He decided to omit the detail that it had been two different Seekers. Prowl probably wouldn’t take that kindly. 

“I knew you’d warm up to your spark mate soon.” Prowl smiled, aiming his own side-arm to check the alignment. “So, when will we be formally introduced to the lovely Seeker?”

“…Never.” Orion stated with a finality that made Prowl sigh.

“Dare I ask… Why?”

“I think I might have to arrest him for ties to a gang, Prowl. That’s why.”

“…You’re kidding.” Prowl pulled the trigger on his side arm in reflex. Good thing it was on safety.

“I found twenty thousand credits in an envelope scattered all over the floor this morning, Prowl. What else could it be?” Orion sighed.

“What did you say Starscream’s profession was?”

“He’s a Shareware, but he makes it very clear that he’s a Dancer now.” Orion looked over at Prowl. “What are you thinking?”

“Twenty-thousand credits… Well, perhaps it’s far-fetched, but have you thought it was a customer who couldn’t take no for an answer and didn’t want to be dragged before the law afterwards?”

“…I didn’t ask.”

“You had breakfast with him and you didn’t ask about the money scattered on the floor?”

Orion was silent, caught in his own trap.

“…It wasn’t him you had breakfast with, was it?” Prowl stared accusingly at his partner. 

“We have his cousin living with us. Pharma. He’s everything Starscream isn’t.” Orion wished he had brought his pack of Royals with him. He could use one right now. He hadn’t smoked one that morning and he could feel the craving now. He pushed it down.

“Slag, Orion, that’s not right.” Prowl put his side-arm in its holster. “Cheat on your spark mate with his own cousin? Are you trying to tempt Primus?”

“What do you mean by that?” Orion spun his side-arm and holstered it, beginning the walk out to the van.

Prowl smacked his side as hard as he could. “Orion, we saw a case just like this. I don’t want to have to be called down to the morgue to identify you on a slab. Much less stand in a witness box across from your spark mate and testify that he had motive.”

“It’s not going to come to that. Pharma’s too close to Starscream. All we did was have breakfast and talk.”

“While your spark mate was… where?”

“In berth. He came in at an ungodly hour, dropped into it, and wouldn’t get up.”

“…When you get home, talk to him. Before you do anything else. Just talk to him. Try and find out about the money from his mouth, not from your overactive processor.”

“…All right. We’re going to the cinema, but I’ll talk to him during the news reel.” Orion promised Prowl.

“The cinema? Well, that will be nice. Good place to take one’s spark mate for an evening alone.” He shot a side-long glance at Orion. “It is an evening alone.”

“Of course.” Orion replied, thinking of Pharma. “What else would it be?”

 

The Cartwheels bust went well and Orion came home in high spirits to find Starscream wrapped up in a blanket, reading a tawdry romantic novel from the cover, and sitting with two boxes of middling grade sweets and a pair of empty boxes beneath him, one servo idly in the box. “Ready to go to the Cinema, Starscream?”

“…I don’t feel like it, Orion. You and Pharma go on without me.” Starscream turned his optics down to the pages of words before him and stuffed another treat into his mouth.

Now that felt wrong, and at the same time it was a rather tempting offer. “What’s wrong?”

“…I’ve had my first batch of research grant letters come.” Starscream nodded to a stack of open letters on the counter. “Pharma brought them from the University post office when he came home from classes.”

Orion picked the top one up and scanned through it. “Impressed with your work regarding particle-induced shock… However we regret to inform you that the grant has been awarded to a more deserving researcher…” He hefted the stack. “Are they all like this?”

“More or less.” Starscream sighed. “I went shopping. Dinner’s chicken. I left a plate on the warmer.”

“Did Pharma cook it?” Orion questioned half-dreading the answer.

“No. I bought it pre-roasted.”

Orion looked at the stack of letters and shook his head. “This right here? This is slag and we both know it, Starscream. They’re just freezing you out for your frametype.” He dropped the whole stack into the incinerator and let them go up in flames. 

“I know that.” Starscream pushed away the boxes of treats. “Doesn’t make it hurt less. Almost twenty years of my life, Orion. All wasted scraping up scholarships and staying up late reading until my optics hurt. You have any idea what I could have been doing with my life?”

“Hey, you had a dream.” Orion leaned over the back of the couch and kissed his helm. “And that dream didn’t work out. It isn’t your fault. Now come on. Polish up, stop eating whatever these are, and come to the cinema.”

“All right.” Starscream sighed, sitting up and letting the blanket fall off of him. “Danielle Steel just wasn’t doing it for me anyway.” He looked down at the boxes of candies in disgust. “Excuse me.” He went into the washracks to get ready for the evening.


	11. Sabrina

Starscream finished purging the results of his binge and sighed, facing himself in the mirror. To his critical optic, he looked drawn and tired in spite of sleeping most of the day away and spending the rest doing little more than some light shopping and reading stupid literature. It had been a long time since he had had the time or inclination to indulge himself this way, but it seemed all his efforts to graduate were for not. He could afford to let his grades slip a bit. “I look terrible.” He muttered to himself and began sorting though his cosmetics, picking out his favorites and beginning his neglected beauty routine: Glossy, lined optics, a slight flair downwards with the paint, a coating of moisturizing foundation, one of liquid dye, and a top coat of more powdered glossy. There was a crème mechs could buy these days that combined the three steps to a perfect lip in one: Lipstick. Perhaps when he had a chance to go to a department store, he’d get some, but there was an art to his lippaint. He had spent a long time learning how to paint his faceplates. Knowing Tarn, he would spend even longer re-learning. He had heard stories about the courses that mechs had to complete before they went to work at the Scarlet Flower. He had no doubt Tarn would be filling his month before he started with such lessons.

Orion’s cameo still hung comfortingly around his neckcables. He had, of course, kept it on all day. It was a fetching, unique little thing. He didn’t think he would ever take it off. It could hide under a collar, if it needed to, or even under the smooth lip of plating where his neck met his chassis.

Evidence of Tarn’s rough handling still stretched between his legs occasionally. Starscream would step wrong and wince. It had been too long since he had had a tank after him. Bloody brutes. He supposed he would get used to it again before long and his frame would start to remember how to open for such large mechs. 

He touched the envelope again: Twenty thousand credits. For two nights of work and a single interface. There were mechs who didn’t make that much in a year. Once upon a time, Starscream had been one of those mechs. Now he was going to be a shareware at the most prestigious Bordello in Iacon, and money like this was being poured into his lap. Sighing, he tucked the envelope away again. This would be nice for when he and Pharma had a chance to go to the department stores. A nursery for the sparkling trimmed out in everything a Carrier could imagine.

Orion smiled when he saw Starscream come out. He and Pharma were talking while they waited. “…It’s a double feature: Audrey Hepburn’s newest film, and one of my favorites: The Quiet Man.”

“Sounds lovely.” Pharma smiled up at Orion and turned when his aeriemate came in. “Doesn’t that sound great, Starscream? You love Audrey Hepburn’s movies.”

“I do.” Starscream smiled. “Pharma, hold still.” With a careful servo, he applied some pale pink lip color to Pharma’s lips. “There. Now we’re ready. Come on, Orion, or we won’t have time to get popcorn before the movies.”

“All right.” Orion picked up his side-arm and slipped it into his subspace. “Just in case. Shall we?” He put his servos in his pockets and Starscream took his arm. Pharma walked alongside them as they went down the street.

 

The cinema was a pretty building with a glowing sign that announced the titles of the films on offer: The Quiet Man in technicolor and Sabrina. A double feature with a twenty minute intermission in between. They were just in time to get the good seats right in the center of the theater. Orion held them while Pharma and Starscream brought some snacks. Orion lit one of his Royals and smoked contemplatively while the advertisements and trailers played. He had laid out his coat on one seat and his hat on another and he was sitting between them, just waiting for his Seekers. It wasn’t long before his view of the screen was blocked by a lovely pair of legs and rounded aft. “Excuse me, Orion, sorry. Here’s your coke.” Pharma handed him the bottle.

“Thanks, Pharma.” Orion ran his digits over the back of Pharma’s servo as he took the bottle.

Starscream snuggled down into the red velvet seats with a full concessions tray on his lap.

“Good Primus, Starscream, are you really going to eat all that?” Orion questioned, looking down into his tray, thinking of the two empty boxes of sweets at home.

“Don’t be silly. The popcorn is for you.” Starscream handed him the massive striped bag, which left a dill pickle, two fat hot dogs with mustard, and a box of cracker jack in the tray. 

“Oh, thank you.” Orion shook his helm as the cartoon started.

Pharma had a small box of chocolate mints and he offered them to Orion. “Would you like one?”

“Thank you, Pharma.” Orion accepted the mint while Starscream watched the cat chasing around the mouse. “Do you like cartoons?” He murmured.

“Love them.” Pharma admitted, taking a few kernels of the Convoy’s popcorn and leaning a little closer.

Orion took a puff of his cigarette and held the stick away from himself as he looked into Pharma’s optics. Starscream looked up to find the cigarette quite near his faceplates and awkwardly took a puff. “Thank you, Orion, but don’t get ash in my pickle.” He gently took the cigarette and stubbed it out in the tray. Orion, finding his servo empty, put his arm around Starscream, who purred softly.

The first movie began, Sabrina. Starscream was soon wrapped up in the tale, nibbling as he went. Orion carefully wrapped his other arm around Pharma and stroked his upper arm as the drama played out between Sabrina and the two brothers.


	12. The Quiet Man

By the time intermission rolled around, Starscream had emptied his tray and Orion had forgotten his promise to Prowl to ask the Seeker about the money. “I need to go powder my nose. Orion, do you want a refill on popcorn?”

“Thanks, Stars. Another coke while you’re at it.”

“Water for me, Starscream.” Pharma requested.

“All right.” Starscream shifted his way out of the row while the newsreel rolled. 

Orion didn’t take his arm away from Pharma’s shoulders. “So… That Audrey Hepburn is something, isn’t she?”

“She’s magnificent, and those big eyes…” Pharma sighed. “I wish I had a face like hers. So sweet and innocent.”

“I like your face.” Orion was very aware of how warm Pharma was next to him. 

“It was so sad at the end.” Pharma sighed wistfully. “The girl dreams of one mech all her life and at the end, she gets his brother, but they were in love too, so I guess they’ll be happy.”

“Indeed.” Orion stroked Pharma’s arm. “It must be rough to have your expectations change like that.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing, though, since she got a man who was so much more serious about everything… I suppose he’d make a better husband than the other one. But I would kill to have some of Sabrina’s dresses. Especially that white and black one, but I have no idea where I’d find something like that.”

“Won’t copycat designs start showing up at the department store? You could get one there.”

“I suppose, but what would I do with it. Starscream works, so he could wear it at work, but I just sit at home. I don’t go anywhere.”

“You could wear it here, to the cinema. For opening nights.”

“Oh, but I never go to the cinema, Orion. Though… I’d love to meet my spark mate while I’m wearing that dress. Can’t you imagine how lovely that would be?”

“I can. You’d be gorgeous in that. Any mech would be lucky to have you.” Orion’s lipplates had come closer and closer to Pharma’s audial until he was practically kissing it.

Pharma turned his helm until they were staring into each other’s optics. Pharma’s azure ones sparkled in time with Orion’s sapphire. Then, they were kissing. It wasn’t hot and messy, like kissing Starscream could be, but it was warm and chaste and sweet. Orion brought his other arm to Pharma’s shoulder and traced patterns on it. Suddenly, though, Pharma pushed him away. “No! We can’t.”

Orion sat up and arranged himself, though he left the arm around Pharma. “Why not? We both feel this.”

“Because it would be so wrong.” Pharma pushed his arm away. “You’re Starscream’s spark mate and I’m his cousin. I can’t do that to him.”

Orion looked up at the newsreel. “He probably wouldn’t mind. I haven’t complained about him still working as a Shareware, have I?”

“That’s different, Orion. That’s work.” Pharma chastised him. “He only started doing that so he could support us. I owe everything to him, Orion. Everything. And he’s given me too much to turn my back on him. You’re the only thing he has that he wants to keep to himself. I can’t take you from him.”

“He doesn’t have to know. He leaves at night.”

“He’d find out, Orion. You can’t keep something like this secret.” Pharma turned away. “I won’t hear any more on this. It’s wrong and you know it.”

Starscream chose that moment to come back with their refreshments and he handed them around. “How did you like Sabrina, Pharma?”

“It was lovely, Starscream. I loved the dynamic between the two brothers.”

“Hmm. I suppose the story was all right, but what I really enjoyed was the costuming. I’d love to have a dress like the black and white one.” Starscream wistfully replied.

Orion folded his arms and leaned back in the seat. Of course, he had to end up with the cousin who was as shallow as a puddle for his spark mate. 

“So would I.” Pharma sighed as well and the two Seekers chatted about the beautiful costuming for several long minutes. 

The Quiet Man’s opening music began playing, sparing Orion further conversation between them and he leaned back into the chair, watching. His and Pharma’s arms brushed against each other as they continued to share the box of mint candies and eventually, Orion stretched and put an arm around each Seeker. Starscream purred softly and leaned into his shoulder. Pharma peeked over at his aeriemate and then leaned just slightly against the arm. 

They walked home through the cold night, talking amongst themselves. Orion kept the arm around Starscream mostly by compulsion, since the Seeker had his own arm around Orion as well. Pharma walked close to Orion, not quite touching, but occasionally, brushing the sleeve of his coat. While Starscream was talking about Vos – something about The Quiet Man had reminded him of his home city – Orion reached out just slightly and entwined his digits with Pharma’s.

 

Starscream curled into Orion’s side that night.

“…Aren’t you going to work?” Orion questioned drowsily, stubbing out their post-coital cigarette. It seemed it would become as much a habit to share one as it was to smoke on in the first place.

“I’ve been recruited for a different club. I have a month before I report there.” Starscream quietly informed him. His voice sounded very weak and was definitely edging towards his natural screech. Though he could control his vox box, sometimes for very long times, without resting it, he would lose his voice. 

“Oh… That’s nice.” Orion turned and nuzzled the Seeker’s neck. “But you’re not giving Sharewaring up?”

“I’m not a Shareware. I’m a Dancer.” Starscream sighed and nuzzled back into Orion, grabbing for the covers and pulling them up over their frames. He muttered something that sounded like. “…If people make me do things I don’t want to, it’s not my fault…”

Orion picked his helm up. “What was that, Starscream?”

But the Seeker was already asleep.


	13. Je Su Belle

The next two weeks set the tone for his employment with Tarn considerably. The mech was certifiable. The fitting at Je Su Belle was nothing short of ridiculous. Tarn ordered about the attendant seamstresses as if they were creating art rather than costumes to display a Seeker in.

Starscream stood on a slightly raised platform in the middle of the room, dully staring into space. He had tried a final plea when he met Tarn at the Scarlet Flower before the tank shuffled him off to the fitting. Tarn had made him come up to his office, presumably to offer him a drink.

“Starscream, come in.” Tarn jovially greeted him. “Have some brandy?”

“No.” Starscream refused, staying near the door. “I don’t drink brandy.”

“A shame. It’s a fine drink. Almost as fine as you are.” Tarn beckoned him.

“…Tarn, I brought back your money. Every credit of it.” Starscream put the envelope on the desk. “I don’t want it. I don’t want to work here. I want to stop working entirely. Can’t you understand? I’ve met my spark mate. I’m done with this life.”

Tarn laughed deep in his chassis. “Come on, Starscream. We both know a spark mate is no more magical than a Shareware. You wouldn’t be happy if you passed up five thousand a night and we both know it.”

“I don’t care about the money. It was only ever something I had to have so Pharma could live.” Starscream shook his helm. “Can’t you see this is destroying me? I’ve brought you back your money – I won’t even mention how you mistreated me – but I want out. I’m not going to dance for you like a monkey on a leash.”

“I think you will.” Tarn’s optics flashed dangerously. 

“I think I won’t.” Starscream adamantly replied. “And if you try to do anything to me, I’ll scream. There has to be some decent person on your staff who would respond to a lady.”

“You’re no lady, and do you think I haven’t dealt with rebellious Shareware like you before? Right here in this office?” Tarn stood up, menacing over the tiny Seeker. “And what do you think I’ll do to Pharma if you don’t do exactly what I tell you?”

“You’re a coward.” Starscream spat at him. “Threatening a helpless mech and his child because you want someone you can’t have.”

“I may be a coward.” Tarn pinned him to the wall with ease. “But I’m the coward who owns you, and you know it.”

“You’re an uncultured brute. You think everything is for sale, don’t you, Tarn? You bought yourself everything in this room, but you didn’t earn any of it.” Starscream pulled back his lipplates from his denteas. “Well, you can’t buy me. I don’t understand why you even want me.” He hadn’t been bothering to control his normal screech and it had to be drilling at Tarn’s audials.

“All my life, I’ve tried to collect fine things, Starscream. You’re going into that collection, like it or not.”

Starscream hissed. “You can force me to work here, Tarn, but I’ll never love you, and you’ll never own me.”

“…We’re wasting time.” Tarn tucked the envelope back into Starscream’s subspace pocket. “You’ll feel better when you see the wardrobe I’m paying out the nasal vent for.”

“I highly doubt that.” But he had nothing more to say. 

 

Now, Tarn was watching as the seamstress rushed about. He was looking up at Starscream with a stupid expression, like he was watching a work of art being made. Starscream scowled back down at him with a dark expression. So far, none of the dresses he was being forced to wear were revealing or anything like the costumes he had made for himself. In fact, they were dresses like noble mechs wore, with trains and ball gown skirts. They were made of silk, satin, taffeta… Lace. Everything he could have dreamed of. There were even long cloaks with hoods, linings of fur. It was less a dancer’s wardrobe than a noble’s.

“What game are you playing at?” Starscream looked at himself in the mirror. “No one is going to buy a mech who looks like this for the night.”

“How little you understand of the upper class, Starscream. You’ve served lower classes of men before, men who want to see the goods, see what they’re buying. But mechs in the upper class… They know what they’re buying, and at my Bordello, that’s quality. Quality mechs don’t dress in fabric strips. Quality mechs wear gowns and sashes.” Tarn adjusted one of the straps on Starscream’s back. He had insisted that the Seeker extend his wings so the clothing could be fit around them.

“You don’t know what quality is, Tarn.” Starscream reached into his subspace and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into Tarn’s faceplates.

“I like to think I would know better than you.”

Starscream shook his helm dismissively and watched himself in the mirror as he deliberately tapped ash onto the skirts of the white dress he was being fit into. 

Tarn growled, but Starscream ignored him, sedately continuing to smoke. He would probably pay for this later, but for now, he would continue to mock Tarn.

 

Tarn pinned him to the wall. “I don’t mind the destruction of the garment as much as the disrespect.” He growled.

“Oh, please, Tarn. We both know you’ll be lucky to get obedience from me.” Starscream sassed back at him. “As soon as I figure out a lever on you, I’m going to put you in your place so hard, your aft will sting.” He warned the pimp.

“I welcome you to try.” Tarn kicked his knees out from underneath him and forced the Seeker to the floor, panel unlocking and revealing his spike. It was far too large to fit more than the tip in Starscream’s mouth, but it didn’t stop him from trying rather enthusiastically to rut into the Seeker’s face.


	14. A SHAMELESS PLUG FOR ANOTHER PROJECT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not to do with Scutwork's plot at all. If you're inclined that way, just skip it. But... Everyone who likes/follows my blog is getting me a step closer to writing full time... and then I could also fanfic more often...
> 
> https://camilladraymarch.wordpress.com

The shadows were less sinister on their walk back. They made a brief stop outside of Carmel’s bedroom to leave her gown and the jewel case. Then, Carmel handed Ceol the lamp and shooed him away. “Go back to bed, Ceol. It’s three hours until Nibiru.”

“Yes, Mother.” Ceol turned away and began the trek out of the women’s wing and back to his own bed.

It wasn’t long before he heard the soft click of heels on stone, his own footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. Looking up, he directed the lamp at the decorative ledge that ran around the roof. “Aunt Carnelian?”

There was silence for a long moment as the shadows cast by delicate statuary refused to coalesce. Then, Carnelian stepped out from behind a cherub. “I hate it when you call me Aunt.”

“You’ve said, but I’m at a loss for what to call you otherwise.” Ceol replied. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“I could ask the same.” Carnelian dropped to the carpet.

“Mother took me to her vault to get clothes for the Waverly party.”

“Indeed. I’ve been looking forwards to it myself.” Carnelian folded her arms over her long coat, the leather bodysuit beneath shone in the lantern light.

“I thought you were the one who warned them to stay out of the public eye for a while?” Ceol questioned. “Aren’t you upset that they didn’t listen?”

“I didn’t expect Lady Aoko to listen for long. Beside that, I must admit: I miss the Waverly parties. They were scandalous. It was fun.” She smiled, her green eyes lighting up with mischief.

“You would think scandal is fun.” Ceol couldn’t help smiling back. Carnelian’s moods, good or bad, were infectious.

“Don’t you?” Carnelian spread her hands in a questioning gesture.

Ceol sighed, smirking. “To a point.”

Finally, his Aunt looked over at a clock nearby. “It’s half past the third hour, Ceol. You should get some more rest before Nibiru.”

“What about you, Aunt Carnelian?” Ceol began walking down the halls again.

“Oh, you know me. Have to do enforcer things.” Carnelian smirked. She didn’t look it, but she took her job as her sister’s deadly hand very seriously.

“Good night, Aunt Carnelian.”

“Good night, Ceol. Don’t let the bedbugs bite!”

Ceol suspected that more than ninety percent of Carnelian’s displayed personality was a carefully maintained act. No one could be that systematically bizarre and yet maintain and nurture a web of spies, remove powerful enemies of the crown, and keep a thumb on the political pulsepoint of Beikirk. On the other hand, his grandfather had declared her unfit to rule and favored Kommissar over her. He assumed there was a reason.

And his Mother and Kommissar often spoke of Carnelian being “better” or “worse” as if she had a disease…

Ceol put it from his mind. Carnelian was Carnelian and there was nothing more to say.

 

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	15. The Morning After

Orion came home early. Starscream was still out – according to Pharma he had gone to the department stores to shop and wouldn’t be back for awhile. He brought dinner with him, Chicken Coq au Vin from the restaurant on the corner – three servings, of course – and Pharma was waiting for him when he arrived.

“Starscream can never, never find out.” He told Orion in no uncertain terms. “I don’t care what happens, he can’t know.”

“I understand.” Orion had no intention of letting the Seeker know either. Reaching out, he pulled Pharma close to his grill. “I will be absolutely discrete.”

“Oh, Primus…” Pharma was beginning to run hot. “Do it. Before I change my mind. Take me.”

Orion pushed him down into the sofa and climbed up over him. His mask transformed out of the way and he dropped his mouth to Pharma’s neck and nibbled the cables there, sending shocks down both of their frames. 

 

Starscream came home with an armful of boxes from department stores to find Orion sleeping on the couch. Pharma was already in berth. 

The red, white, and blue Seeker sighed and set down his bundles. “You shouldn’t have waited up for me.” He told Orion, settling on the couch beside him. 

“Hmm? Wouldn’t dream of it, Sweetspark.” Orion muttered, wrapping an arm around Starscream’s waist and pulling him close, sleepily digging his faceplates into his waist.

Starscream smiled down at the sleepy convoy and indulged himself in some quiet confession where no one would hear or remember. “…I’m in trouble, Orion, and I don’t know what to do. Tarn has me on my wings. I’m not even sure I can trust you to help me.”

Orion grumbled something that almost sounded like a question. 

“I never wanted to be a dancer… or a Shareware. Now that I am… I’m not going to be allowed to stop. I wish there was something someone could do, but I’m afraid that there isn’t a simple solution.” Starscream soothed a servo over his helm. “…You’re much nicer when you’re asleep. I wish you could be in recharge all the time.”

 

Orion had disturbing dreams all through that night and woke up covered in a dark blue throw to the sound of someone humming softly and stirring something.

Starscream was standing in the kitchen, in front of the window, with a bowl in one arm, staring out over the city.

Orion sat up, optics still blurry from sleep. “…Doesn’t Pharma usually cook?”

“You have to be relieved. We’re having pancakes.” Starscream turned. He was dwarfed by the window’s height. Everything about Orion’s apartment made him look small.

“…I smell coffee.” Orion stretched and stood up. 

“It’s on the stove. It just finished boiling.” Starscream nodded to the pot. Orion poured a cup and sat down at the table, looking up at his striking Seeker.

“…I’m going out this afternoon. I won’t be home until about the sixth hour.” Tarn was insisting on some dancing lessons and music lessons as well.

“What are you going to do?” Orion questioned. 

“Pursue some interests… in hopes of finding a new career. Clearly, I’m not going to be able to pursue science for awhile… Though don’t think that means I’m giving up!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Orion gave him a slight smile and handed the Seeker a mug of the strong coffee.

Starscream tossed back the whole cup without noticing the heat and hummed, pouring out a few pancakes. “We’ll have breakfast soon.”

“I’ll go wake Pharma then.” Orion walked off down the apartment hallway and lifted a servo to tap on the door.

Pharma came to it with odd streaks under his optics and a demure frown on his faceplates. He had a towel wrapped around his frame and he had just stepped out of a shower. “What is it, Orion?”

Orion shot a glance down the hallway. They were just out of sight of the kitchen where Starscream was cooking. He pressed a slight kiss to the demure lipplates. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Pharma sighed in return.

“How was… yesterday?” Orion murmured.

“…It was… kind of amazing, Orion, but I’m not sure it should happen again.” Pharma muttered back. “…I know my hormones are affecting my judgment right now, with the sparkling and everything that’s going on.”

Orion gently touched his chin. “If you want it to happen again, then it will happen. If you don’t, then it won’t. It’s your choice, but I can’t deny that I feel something for you.”

Pharma ducked his helm away. “Starscream is your Sparkmate, though. I don’t understand why you don’t want him above all.”

“I don’t know. Maybe Primus made a mistake. I won’t deny that I’m magnetized to Starscream, but there’s something special about you too.”

Pharma scratched his arm softly. “You say sweet things sometimes, Orion. This thing that we have… it can’t last forever. I want you to say sweet things to Starscream too, so that when it does have to end, it ends cleanly.”

“…Agreed.” Orion sighed slightly and turned towards the kitchen. “Starscream’s making pancakes.”

“I’ll be right out.” Pharma’s lipplates curved slightly.

Orion flashed him a wink and headed back into the kitchen in a better mood.

 

Starscream saw Orion down the street with an umbrella. It was raining again. Iacon was known for its tempestuous weather.

“…Somedays, I think Primus hates this city.” The hard-bitten cop admitted to the Seeker. “Somedays, I don’t really blame him.” They were smoking as they walked, a single cigarette, passing it back and forth. Starscream was wrapped in one of Orion’s trenchcoats and the high collar shielded his face – making him almost impossible to recognize.

“That’s a rather down view on the world. I think it’s me Primus hates.” Starscream took his puff and blew it out through his nasal vent, contemplatively before passing it back to Orion.

“And it’s me with the pessimistic view?” Orion questioned, smacking the side of Starscream’s hip with one servo – gently, before he transformed on the corner of the main street and rolled out, stubbing out the butt of the cigarette as he went.


	16. Venus and Mars

Starscream had a talent for music. He had always known he did. But a poor background had prevented him from acquiring instruments and his voice was not his best asset. To make a long story short, this lesson was his first time touching a Xernichord.

It was not going well. Though Starscream had a natural gift, forcing anyone to try and master something in a fraction of the time it would take would wear on a mech, and Starscream may have loved music, but he was not going to do this happily on Tarn’s command.

Endless chords wore on Starscream’s helm and processor. “Is this really necessary, Tarn?” He snapped. “How much training does one employee need?”

“You are not just an employee. You are a performer and my performers are multi-talented people capable of making their own music and dancing both elegantly and sexually.”

Starscream glared, unimpressed.

“Just do it!” Tarn growled. “You’re being paid better than any other mech and you know it!” He stormed out, leaving Starscream and the instructor alone.

“…I’m just doing my job.” The Instructor quietly told Starscream. “Let’s try again.”

 

By the time he came home, Starscream’s digits were so sore that he let Pharma cook. He curled up on the couch and pulled a blanket over his helm, hiding from the world and tired.

Orion walked in through the door. “I’m home.” He called, stepping out into the main room. Pharma was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. Soup tonight then. Starscream was in a bundle on the couch, helm hidden in a blanket.

“So, you’re home.” He wasn’t in a good mood, if that was any indication.

Orion blew a silent kiss to Pharma on his way to the couch. “Is something wrong, Starscream?”

“…My servos are sore.” He admitted. “I had a long day.”

“Need to recharge?” Orion gently levered his arms around Starscream and pulled him up against the Convoy’s frame. He felt floppy and slightly limp.

“…Can’t get there. My mind is working too fast.”

“That sounds like a leading line if I’ve ever heard one.” Orion looked up and saw Pharma watching them. There was something like approval and something like jealousy in the other Seeker’s optics. “Come back to the bedroom with me?”

“All right.” Starscream sighed and pitched his helm back against his shoulder. “You’re being nice today. Should I be worried?”

“No, no…” Orion assured him. “Let’s just get you off to a good recharge.”

The Seeker leaned back into him. “I can’t argue and I don’t want to.”

Orion carried Starscream back to his berth room and laid him down on the master berth. Pressing his large servos to his thighs, he began kneading with care around the Seeker’s panel. “Are you going to open for me?”

“…Maybe…” Starscream tried to be a tease, rocking his hips slightly, but he was too tired and eventually just let the panel open. 

Orion felt around the soft valve offered to him, massaging and listening to Starscream’s soft moans. “Ahhh… yes, please… right there.” The Seeker’s optics seemed to dim the further he went until they were off entirely.

Orion teased the labia and ran his digits over Starscream’s external node. His fingers were slick with glowing lubricant and he pressed his thumb to the biolights on Starscream’s external hood. There was a deep, shuddering sigh from the Seeker and an almost anti-climactic flow of fluid from inside his body. 

“Good?” Orion looked up at Starscream and found that his optics were entirely off and his faceplates were peaceful and still. His sparkmate was deep in recharge.

Orion carefully cleaned Starscream, trying not to wake him as he went. After he had wiped away the fluid and tucked him carefully into the dry spot on the sheets, he went to see Pharma and have dinner.

Pharma was leaned up on the counter, chewing on one of his apron strings and lost in thought. There were three plates on the table, but the detective was far more interested in the rounded and voluptuous figure in front of him.

Pharma gasped softly when Orion gripped his aft. “Orion! What about-?”

“Sleeping like a sparklet.” Orion assured Pharma. “Come on, let’s have a go. Can’t hurt.”

Pharma began rubbing against his servos as he gripped the older Seeker. “Why didn’t – ngh – you do this with Starscream?”

“Who says I didn’t?” Orion pulled the Seeker closer to him and let his spike panel pop open, his own protruding against Pharma’s valve cover. “He fell into recharge before we could do much.”

Pharma bent close to the counter, presenting his valve. He and Starscream were very different here as well. Starscream’s biolights were flashing scarlet and his inner labia peeked out from between the thicker pair. Pharma’s frame was more demure blue and tucked in parts. 

He still opened wonderfully beneath Orion’s ministrations as the Convoy gripped his wings. Here he could see Pharma’s spark mark: “And so this is Pharma, I’ve heard so much about you.” There was a flare of jealousy through his plating. 

Pharma began huffing out odd vents as Orion fragged him, hard and deep. He was twisting his hips to get the spike inside of him onto various nodes – harder or softer depending. “Something bothering you, Orion?”

“Nothing. Just a hard day. Problem?”

“Not at all, dear. Not at all.” Pharma began to press back, finding Orion’s rhythm. They rocked together in the illicit embrace, Venus and Mars trying to avoid Hephestus’s attention as he slept peacefully, drunk on some elixir prepared by his own bride so they might slip out unknown.

Orion had been reading something of Greek Tragedy recently and it was starting to play games with his processor it seemed.

Orion’s faceplates screwed up against a vocalization as he overloaded deep in Pharma. They extricated themselves from the messy embrace with care. Pharma closed his valve cover immediately and Orion put his spike away. Without saying a word, they sat down to eat, but Orion’s mind was still on Pharma’s spark mark and the implication that somewhere, there was a mech who would say those words.


	17. A New Hobby

Tarn trailed his blunt digits up and down the small of Starscream’s back. “Stop it.”

“Mm?” The tank dug them in at a seam he knew had a knot beneath it and began rubbing it out.

“Stop touching me. You’ve had your fun.” Starscream turned over and rolled away from him. There was a series of clicks and a creak from his various joints as he did. 

“Maybe I want another go.”

“Shove it up your aft, Tarn. I’m tired.” Starscream stood up off the bed.

“And yet you’re not staying in bed, in spite of claiming to be tired.” Tarn took a drag on one of his noxiously filtered cigarettes. “One must wonder where you would go to that would be better than this.” He gestured around his gaudy room, the artworks on the walls and draperies around the ornate berth.

“Anywhere. Anywhere is better than here.” Starscream replied, direct and simple. “I would rather sleep in a coffin than here.”

“You wound me.” Tarn blew out a puff of almost mint-scented tobacco smoke.

“Good. I hate you.” The Seeker wiped himself off at the sink and wrapped himself up in the coat he had come in.

“…Your pay is on the table.” Tarn casually mentioned as Starscream headed for the door. 

The Seeker turned, staring at the innocent looking white envelope, fat with credits. Paid, in cash, more money than he could ever earn for himself. Tarn paid double his usual allotment for interfacing, as he had explained, but the trade-off was that since Starscream wouldn’t ever accept him willingly, he forced himself on the Seeker. There were several deep scratches on the tank’s paint that bore witness to Starscream’s consent, i.e. there was none.

“It’s good money.” Tarn blew out another cloud of smoke. “And the deed’s done. No point in cutting off your nose to spite your face.”

Starscream made an angry noise in his nasal cavity and grabbed the envelope, thrusting it into his subspace bitterly. “You son of a glitch.”

“Good evening to you too.” The tank sedately continued to smoke his cigarette.

 

Starscream dragged himself home to find Pharma and Orion were already in berth. That suited him fine: He had a mess to take care of. Immediately stalking into the washracks, he began scrubbing himself from helm to pede, getting rid of the cloying smell of minted smoke and the sticky transfluid. Touching the subspace pocket where he carried the envelope, he leaned against a wall and sobbed. How could things be going so horrendously wrong?

He bitterly thought to himself, “At least it can’t be any worse” and lifted his faceplates to the boiling stream of solvent. It tickled his wings and slipped under his seams as he fluffed his plating, erasing what had happened to him. After the solvent did its work, Starscream took a bottle of softly scented oil and smeared it onto his plating, massaging it in to where his nanites could soak it up and use it to make his colors flush and smooth once again. 

When he stepped out, dry and shining, Orion was stirring. “…Starscream?” The Convoy muzzily questioned as the tricolor Seeker climbed into berth with him. 

“It’s me.” Starscream nuzzled and nestled his way into his embrace, resting his faceplates in the strong neckcables. “Go back to recharge.”

Orion shifted and his arms came up, locking beneath the Seeker’s wings and pulling him to his chassis. “Mmm… ‘s late. What are you doing out this late?”

“I had business.” Starscream hedged. “Ask me in the morning, Orion… I’m tired.”

The Detective sighed through his nasal vent and dimmed his optics down again, falling back into recharge. Starscream stroked the back of his shoulder and dimmed his own, making his venting regular and even as he tried to drift off.

 

Starscream woke to find that Orion had left the berth. The sounds of cooking floated down out of the kitchen and his tanks rumbled – no dinner last night. Getting up, he worked his way down the hallway to find Orion working the stove, throwing together some kind of hash. “Good morning.” Starscream sleepily sat down on a chair at the bar.

“Good morning to you too.” Orion leaned over to kiss the Seeker’s helm. “Long night?”

“Yep.” Starscream laid his helm down on the counter. “Do you mind if I just drift off right here?”

“If you do that, you’ll miss me trying to make toast.” Orion teased, chopping the hash one last time and putting a few slices of bread onto a different skillet. “That’s always a treat.”

“Mm… Where’s Pharma?” Starscream questioned, smelling the savory fragrance of corn beef hash with eggs and hash browns scrambled into it.

“He ran out to the market to get some fruit.” Orion explained. “Woke up with a craving.”

“That time then. Shouldn’t be too long until the sparkling emerges.” Starscream leaned on one hand, watching Orion. “How’s your work going?”

“It’s going.” Orion shrugged. “Every time I put a scumsucker away, two more pop up in his place. And I have the creeping feeling there are bigger fish out there than what we’ve been catching.”

Considering that Tarn still walked free, Starscream would consider that a definite. He snorted, “Sometimes I think you’ll never manage to catch the biggest fish.”

“Name the mech, and I’ll see what I can do.” Orion responded. “Now that the Cartwheels are off the street, I need a new project.

The words slipped out of Starscream’s vocalizer like a plea. “Tarn of Kaon, for rape and blackmail with ties to the Decepticon Mob.”

Orion stopped his work and stared at Starscream. “…Tarn of Kaon is a very large fish.”

“He’s dirty.” Starscream indifferently shrugged. “And he makes sure his mechs stay with him, even if they don’t want to. So I don’t see why you shouldn’t try to catch him.”

“Hmm… I’d have to be careful.” Orion muttered. “But if I could nail Tarn down hard for something, maybe he would squeal about the rest of the mob.”

“Kill many, many birds with a single stone.” Starscream’s wings fluttered as he thought about the look on Tarn’s faceplates when he realized he was undone. And then he could finally get on with his life and leave bordellos behind for good.

“All right.” Orion nodded, almost to himself. “I’ll make Tarn my personal hobby from now on.”


	18. Gumshoe On The Case

The first thing a mech had to do when hunting another was find out everything about them, and Orion meant everything. So, he went to the archives and pulled all the files on Tarn. Most of it was stuff he had been through before, but he reviewed the information with care. 

Tarn’s connections to the Decepticons – one of the most vicious, brutal, widespread, and powerful Mobs in Iacon – had long been suspected. However, he was a hard target because he had so many wealthy and powerful mechs under his digits and he wasn’t above using them at a moment’s notice. His bordello was clean – at least publicly. In reality, Orion had long suspected that it was a Syk dump at the very least. Not to mention Starscream’s own accusations, which had included rape and extortion of the mechs who danced and fragged for him under his roof.

What they really needed was ironclad proof that Tarn and Megatron had dealings and that Tarn extorted his dancers, but getting a mech to come forward would be a task worthy of Hercules. Anyone who did say anything would have to be hidden or locked up in solitary immediately after to keep a “rather unfortunate” accident from befalling them. 

It would be best if they could get a recording or a film of the two mechs conversing or of abuses Tarn exercised on his mechs. If they had that, then a witness might not need to come forward. But that would be hard to get and depending on what kind of evidence it was, it might still not help the informant in the long run if the evidence was viewed and used to identify the mech. 

Orion chewed on his pencil as he went over the files. Tarn had gone from petty Syk charges in his youth to managing the Red light District’s most well known Bordello. He was smart, and knew how to get in and out of trouble seamlessly. This wasn’t an easy fish to catch.

Perfect.

Orion took his pencil out of his mouth and began making notes on a notepad. He had been preoccupied with low-end crime recently, but it was time to dust off his old suit and cuffs and walk among the wealthy and famous. Maybe Starscream could help. He had to know something about the case if he had brought Tarn up specifically. Perhaps he was even a victim. 

…Hadn’t Prowl always said they needed someone who could go in among the prostitutes and the dancers? Someone they could trust?

But his spark mate… No. No, he wouldn’t risk Starscream like that. They might not always get along, but they were sparkmates. Rough start, pretty aeriemate, and bad attitude were part of the package. 

Speaking of Pharma, Orion’s processor wandered to the sunburst Zircon pendant. Starscream hadn’t found it yet and it was just going to waste. He had given Starscream the cameo, so Pharma would have the sunburst. 

The cop stood up, shoving the file back into a drawer and picked up his notebook, pushing it into his pocket. Time for some snooping. 

Prowl was reading through one of their case files. “Crime is up. Business is booming.” He commented to Orion, humming softly. Orion had to do a double take as he walked past. Prowl’s shoulder was denuded of the barely-legible scrawl that had once been there.

“Prowl? Your spark mark is gone.” Orion stared at the patch of plating where it had been.

Prowl took a deep sigh and planted his elbows on his desk, propping his helm up. “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Orion raised his optical ridges at him and sat down at his own desk, giving him a wary look. “…Would you like some coffee?” He offered hesitantly.

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m already awake.” Prowl sighed deeply again and twisted, lying on his back on his desk and staring at the ceiling. 

“…Do we have a case?”

“I have a case of spark call… I should take a month off, take him down to Capri. It’s some of the most beautiful ocean and beach you’ve ever seen, Orion…”

Orion had the feeling he would regret listening any more to this and buried himself in work before finding an excuse to flee. Take a month off? Go to Capri? That didn’t sound like Prowl. Love really did change a mech. 

Orion shifted, looking up. It was a rare, sunny day in Iacon. It actually felt warm on his shoulders as he walked. He loosened his collar and looked around. All the rain of late had scrubbed the city clean. Even the grey concrete looked nicer and puddles of water were gathering here and there. 

A young femme and mech passed him as he walked along, leaning on each other and sickeningly in love. Orion pulled out a cigarette and considered it before putting it away. No need to light the fire inside today. It was plenty warm. 

Sparklings were splashing in the puddles, walking between parents who only sighed and chuckled helplessly when their clothes were splashed and marked with the water. When they were single, they would probably have been upset over the willful destruction, but right now all they wanted to do was enjoy the sun and the water, their sparklings, and each other. Love certainly did change mechs. 

Orion lifted his helm to breathe in the breeze. Hmm… what was that smell? Flowers? Maybe he could get some for Starscream and Pharma while he was out snooping. Roses couldn’t go amiss. Stepping bouncily, he turned down a side street and spotted the target of his investigation: Tarn. He was coming out of a dance studio with one huge, purple servo wrapped around a Seeker’s arm. 

If Orion had had a cigarette in his mouth, he would have bitten it in half. That was Starscream! What- Was Tarn…? 

The cop went to stealth mode at once and slipped into the shadows, using them to hide as he slipped up to them. Tarn was trying to force Starscream into a car without making it look like he was using force. “…You’re being patently unreasonable.”

“I just want to go home. What is it with people like you and me? Why am I so appealing?” Starscream was subtly stepped back from Tarn, pulling his arm just barely visibly and trying to loosen the tank’s grip.

“Really, Starscream, that’s as stupid a question as you’ve ever asked.” Tarn stepped easily forward, pulling Starscream off his pedes and with him. “Now sit down and shut up. That voice of yours could strip paint.” Orion winced as he recognized the insult and stepped out of the shadows. Time to intervene.

Orion rushed out onto the curb as the car was pulling away. “Hey!” He called after them, fumbling for his badge, but no one noticed. Starscream and Tarn were too busy wrestling in the back seat as his spark mate tried to fend Tarn off. 

Dammit! Capri was beginning to sound better than just staying here. What did Tarn have on Starscream that he wouldn’t just run or fly away? Why hadn’t he told Orion he was being victimized by the brute?

Trudging back home through the puddles, he reviewed the evidence. Starscream had come crashing into his life while walking home from a dance club. At that time, he had a wardrobe on him that consisted of recycled jewelry and other decorations. Not exactly what Tarn’s mechs wore. Then, he had been insistent that he was getting out of the dancer’s life because he was finishing his degrees and applying for research grants. That went nowhere. At what point had Tarn entered the equation?

He remembered the envelope full of credits and how Starscream had come home that night, on edge and upset. But he hadn’t said anything. Why hadn’t he said anything? The envelope had to come from Tarn, which meant it was payment for services rendered. If Starscream’s behavior couldn’t have shouted it more clearly, he hadn’t offered that service. That was just slagged, and completely expected from the kind of scum Tarn was. 

…He needed to talk to his spark mate. Tarn had leverage on Starscream and he needed to find out what it was and how he could get rid of it.


	19. The Long Edge

Orion was brooding when he made it home. Starscream was in berth with the blankets pulled over his helm and the cop settled beside him, not saying anything. 

Starscream shifted slightly. “…What is it, Orion?”

Orion couldn’t think of a better topic opener. “…How do you like the idea of Capris?”

“The sea side?” Starscream questioned, lifting his helm slightly. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason… I have some time off that I’ve never taken and it seems as good a time as any.”

“…It’s not really a good time.” Starscream murmured. 

“Why not?” Orion gently pressed. 

“I’m starting my new job soon.” The Seeker replied. “And I’m going to be busy. I can’t go on vacation.”

Orion pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Are you very tired, Starscream?”

“…More sore than tired.” 

Orion gently, carefully gripped the blanket and pulled it back from Starscream’s frame. Starscream’s venting hissed and he tried to clutch it briefly, but soon he allowed Orion to pull it back. His paint had been cleaned and polished recently, but Orion could see small dents in the armor and when he turned Starscream’s faceplate, one optic was cracked. “What happened?”

Before Starscream could make anything up, the police officer continued. “Does this have something to do with Tarn?”

Starscream hissed. “It’s nothing. I ran into a pole.”

“You’re trying to protect someone.” Orion pinpointed the only possible cause. “…It’s not me, so it must be Pharma and his sparkling. Tarn is blackmailing you.”

“It’s nothing I can prove. I’ve no evidence.” Starscream sat up and held his aching helm. “The only solid thing he gives is the money he’s always paying me with.”

“But the services… He’s not giving you a choice but to render them.” Orion guessed again, watching Starscream.

“Why would he? To him, I’m a commodity, and payment is merely some form of maintenance.” Starscream reached into his subspace and pulled out yet another envelope, handing it to Orion. “Prostitution is legal and so long as there’s payment, it can be difficult to prove the services aren’t rendered willingly. Who’s going to take my word over Tarn’s?”

“I will.” Orion opened the envelope and looked inside. There was a note as well. He pulled it out and read through it. Sappy, and disgusting, but nothing damning. He handed the money back to Starscream and subspaced the note. “Do you mind if I keep this?”

“Not at all.” Starscream sighed. “…I need you to come with me to a bank.”

“Why?” Orion curiously looked over at him.

“I’m a Seeker: I need someone’s supporting signature to open an account.” Starscream explained. It was an ancient and unfair piece of law. “And I don’t want to carry around a small fortune in my subspace.”

“Of course. We can go tomorrow at my lunch break.” Orion settled on the berth beside his spark mate. The Seeker was still ridiculously tiny compared to his bulk. “…Will Tarn try to recruit Pharma?” 

Starscream shook his helm. “Tarn doesn’t care about Pharma except as a way to get at me.” He leaned against Orion. “…I thought I had left this life behind when we graduated. Now, it seems I can’t get away.”

“You will get away.” Orion promised Starscream. “If it takes me vorns to see Tarn in prison, you will get away.”

“…Thank you.” Starscream’s smile was more like Pharma’s than his usual one and he shut down his optics as Orion wrapped one arm around him and pulled him to his chassis. “Have I been neglecting you? I’ve been wrapped up and busy… But I have a moment, and you have one.”

“Are you sure you want to?” The Convoy fiddled with one of his pectoral fans, feeling it hum to life under his digits. 

“I love interfacing.” Starscream replied bluntly, pushing Orion onto his back and rising over him like a flame. Where their frames touched, his was warm as a fire on a cold evening and Orion felt himself responding. “Especially with someone who treats me well. Tarn can’t change that.”

“Of course not.” Orion agreed, servos coming up to touch against Starscream’s hips gently and he swept his thumbs through the seam between his torso and legs. Starscream took a sudden vent and his hips rocked, brushing their panels together. It created a spark of warm friction and Orion arched his back, chasing the cherry red hips as Starscream pulled back, teasing. “But you are determined to make me beg for it!”

Starscream stretched his arms up above his helm, balancing on his knees. He knew exactly how he looked like, like this. “Is it working?”

Orion’s engine purred without his consent. “Of course not, I am wise to your tricks, Seeker harlot.” The detective reached up, cupping the back of his neck and pressing his thumb into a spot he had found. “But I will make you beg for me before I’m done.”

Starscream caught on easily, fortunately. He was very, very intelligent, wasn’t he? “Shall we make a wager on it, master Convoy?” He silkily replied, bending down to press their chassis together and nibble at Orion’s neckcables. “The first to beg for the other loses?”

“What shall the rules be, then, my Seeker?” Orion pinched his wing flaps.

“No rules.” Starscream replied, biting down suddenly, making Orion gasp. “But there should be a code word. If either of us needs to stop, for any reason… Then we will say ‘Tetrahex’ and it will stop and the bet will be off. Otherwise… The first person to make the other beg, wins.”

“Agreed. Tetrahex if we need to stop.” Orion pulled Starscream in for a deep kiss and flipped them over, pinning the Seeker on his wings. “But no other rules.”

Starscream wriggled, trying to find a way out of Orion’s grip. “This is cheating, my Convoy.” He ran his pede-tip up Orion’s thigh.

“It’s not cheating if there is no rule forbidding it.” Orion bent down and began kissing Starscream’s faceplates and neck cables. 

“Hmm. We’ll see.” Starscream nudged his modesty panel gently with the exploring pede-tip. “I’ll get you yet.”

Orion let the panel snap aside, his spike expanding into Starscream’s pede, leaving a slick, shining spot. “We’ll see.” He pushed up slightly and switched from a two-servoed grip to one, trailing his servos down Starscream’s front to his own modesty panel. “Open up, my beauty.”

“No.” Starscream refused cheekily, arching his back. “Make me.”

“Oh, I will.” Orion purred, leaning over him and pressing a kiss to his lipplates. “And you’ll beg for me before I’m done.”

“Big words. But you’re all talk.” Starscream flung his frame up and twisted, turning Orion over and mounting his lap. “Now stay still and let a master work.” He purred, sliding down Orion’s frame.

Orion gripped the berth and arched when Starscream licked his tip. He had a clever glossa, twisting and turning it around his head. With a pointed motion, he dipped his glossa into the transfluid slit on his head and then swallowed it in a smooth motion. 

Starscream sucked his spike like a starving mech with his first meal in decacycles. Orion found himself almost trembling before his enthusiasm as he began to work his hips into the Seeker’s intake.

Starscream began purring around his spike, vibrating against certain nodes. Then, suddenly, he pulled off and drew back, the servo around his spike squeezing almost painfully, keeping him from the overload Starscream had induced.

Orion bit back the whine that tried to bubble up in his throat. “You’re vicious.” One of his servos crept off of the berth. “I can handle that.” Hampered by his rock-hard spike, he still caught hold of Starscream’s waist as the Seeker was spinning away and pinioned him with his back to his windshield. Starscream briefly wiggled and squirmed against him, trying to find a weakness in his grip. “Do you surrender?”

Starscream’s optics flashed a volcanic fire. “Do your worst, Orion Pax.”

Orion rubbed his vent fans, making them spin beneath his digits. Starscream let out little gasps and moans with every moment. But Orion wasn’t fooled. Starscream was nowhere near begging. 

The Cop switched their positions, gripping Starscream’s arms tightly and pulled the Seeker into a riding position. They slid together like they had been made for each other and Orion purred as Starscream was pulled flush against his frame. 

Starscream’s servos went to his shoulders as they began rocking. Orion released his arms to grip his hips and pull them up and down into a punishing rhythm. Then, his servo slipped against the hip seam and Starscream did something odd.

He giggled.

Orion froze. A devilish smirk slid across his faceplates. “Starscream… are you… ticklish?”

“No!” Starscream gasped as the convoy threaded his digit tips into the seam and purposefully began wiggling them, looking for sensitive wires. “Stop it!”

“Why should I stop if you’re not ticklish?”

“You bastard! Stop!” Starscream tried to roll away, but Orion pinned him on his back and began looking for other spots. He was still buried to the hilt in the Seeker and Starscream’s writhing was making this delicious. Furthermore, Orion could feel the crackle of charge building in his partner. “Please! Please, stop!”

“Are you begging?” Orion questioned, tickling. 

“Yes! Yes, please!” Starscream went rigid and his optics whited out. He went over the edge, laughing all the way and Orion was swept along with him.


	20. Give Him Time

“So, what do I win?” Orion questioned, holding Starscream in one arm, cigarette in the other hand. 

“Shut up. You cheated.” Starscream grumbled as he took a drag on the cigarette. 

“There was no rule against tickling.” Orion reminded the testy Seeker. “You’re just mad because I just gave you the best overload of your functioning and you were laughing all through it.”

“Shut up.”

They spent a few moments in companionable silence. “You win a forfeit. A sexual favor.” Starscream decided. “Anything you like.”

“A blowjob at the station?”

“Almost anything you want.”

“Spoilsport.” Orion sighed, stretching. “I wouldn’t ask for anything like that anyway. I like my job.”

“How’s your… special project going?”

“I just found out my spark mate is being forced to work for Tarn. I want to take him out into a back alley and put two slugs in his helm, that’s how it’s going. How could you keep something like that from me?”

“Because this is how you’d react.” Starscream sighed through his nasal vent. “And I need you.”

Orion pulled him closer. “…And I need you. Go to recharge, Starscream. I need to think.”

“…All right.” Starscream turned over. “Orion… I hate to rush you, but Tarn wants me to start working at his Bordello soon.”

“…I’ll get him, Stars.” Orion stroked his helm. “I promise.”

 

Pharma was playing with his sparkling by tapping rhythms on his cockpit. “Something on your mind, Orion?”

Orion stared up at the ceiling. “A case is giving me trouble, Pharma. That’s all.” He blew smoke through his nasal vent. Pharma turned away and coughed.

“Orion… Why do you come to me?” Pharma questioned, laying back. “You don’t need to flatter me – Starscream is by far the more beautiful out of the two of us.”

“I thought it was obvious.” Orion replied, blowing smoke again. “I like you.”

“And I like you, but still – why?”

“Pharma, I need to think.” Orion told the Seeker. “Do you mind not talking right now?”

“…If that’s the way you feel about it, I’ll be in my room.” Pharma sat up and slid off the bed. “For the record, if Starscream finds out, he’s going to be very upset.”

“He’s not going to find out.” Orion repeated the sentiment. “And eventually, I’ll figure out what to do. Just give me time.”


	21. The Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> For everyone who loved this piece and everyone who follows my work. I'm sorry. I left it too long. I took on too many projects at once. I have to work, go to college, and write my own books, and my fics are falling through the cracks. I don't even remember what I was going to do with this fic, but here's a basic summary.
> 
> Starscream finds out about Orion and Pharma - Duh. They become estranged and he goes to live at Tarn's bordello, basically giving up on normal life. Orion, meanwhile, stumbles across the Decepticons and begins hunting them out. Meanwhile, Megatron discovers Starscream at Tarn's club and convinces him to come away with him to an island paradise. Basically, Starscream accepts the life of a spoiled Mistress. But Orion chases after him and they have a moment of conflict where Starscream tells him to leave because it's not safe for him to stay. Megatron catches them and he and Starscream make a deal - Orion lives if Starscream never sees him again. Orion doesn't accept that. Starscream runs away into the catacombs beneath the island. Orion and Megatron pursue.

Starscream fled down into the catacombs without a second thought, the skirt of his gown trailing behind him like Cinderella’s. Orion pursued his fleeing Seeker with only one thought in mind, to catch him any way he could. 

“Stop, Orion! Please, don’t come any closer!” Starscream cried out, over his shoulder.

Orion rushed after him. “Come back, Starscream! I know I messed up, but I came here to find you!”

“Oh, Orion… You don’t understand anything.” Starscream sobbed and ran away again, further into the catacombs.

Orion followed doggedly, until he saw Starscream struggling with the train of his gown. It was caught on an out hanging piece of rusted pipe.

Orion rushed towards Starscream. “Starscream!” The Seeker looked up and his servos rushed to the tear-away waistline, undoing the clasps. He tore away from the entrapping piece of fabric and continued to run. “Starscream!”

Eventually, the Seeker came to a dead end and turned to face Orion, crumpling slightly into his arms when he reached his side. “Primus, Orion… I don’t want to run anymore, don’t you understand? But you have to go.”

“I’ve come this far. I’m here to take you home.” Orion bent and kissed him. “Now come on. We don’t have-“

“Correct, Orion Pax. You don’t have any time at all.” Megatron appeared around the same corner and fired before Orion could think. The former cop crumpled as a bullet tore into his hip. Starscream helped him down to the floor, fussing over him as the massive tank came forward. “Now, now, Starscream… What about our agreement? Pax lives, provided that you never see him again.”

“I didn’t ask him to come here.” Starscream had reached into Orion’s coat pocket, found the pistol he had carried along. “Just send him home, he doesn’t have to die.”

“I tend to disagree, Starscream. He’s come all the way here for you once before. What’s to stop him doing it again?” Megatron’s optics gleamed as he stared covetously at Orion’s spark mate.

“He’ll give up. He knows I don’t want him anymore.” Starscream fumbled with the pocket, desperately trying to pull the pistol out and keep a servo on the bullet wound. “I don’t think anything vital’s ruptured, he’ll live if only you call for an ambulance now. Please, Megatron…”

“Get away from him and I’ll consider not shooting him a second time.” Megatron gestured with his gun. “Go on. Get away.”

Starscream had his servo around the gun and he whipped it up, standing. “Call for an ambulance, Megatron.”

“Oh, come on, Starscream.” Megatron began stalking towards him. “We both know you don’t have the guts to shoot someone.”

“Don’t test me and make me find out for certain, Megatron. Please. Just call an ambulance.” The Seeker begged, trying to keep his distance from Megatron.

“No, I don’t think I will. See, I’ve always known I could never really own you until Orion Pax was out of the picture. I’ve tried to have him killed more times than I can count, but it never seems to stick. Not until now. Now he’s here, in a dark catacomb alone with you and I. And no one to witness. No one to come to the rescue. The jig is up, Starscream.” Megatron backed the Seeker into a wall. “It’s time for you to come home.”

“Tarn, Sentinel, you…” Starscream’s optics had filled with distressed coolant, trails poured down his cheekplates. “…Is there anyone on Cybertron who doesn’t want to possess me?”

“What can I say?” Megatron reached out and touched Starscream’s helm. “You have something. Something special. You should treasure it. Not kick against it. Now come home.”

“…I am going home, but not with you.” There was a report as a bullet fired and Megatron froze.

The mob boss looked down at himself, searching for a bullet, but as he stepped away from the Seeker, Starscream fainted down to the floor and Orion’s pistol skittered away from his servo.

“…Stupid bitch.” Megatron breathed as he looked down at Starscream and nudged him with his pede. Blood was trickling out of a small, neat hole in his abdomen and staining the ruffled blouse. “Guess he really didn’t want to come home.”

Orion, meanwhile was crawling towards Starscream, pulling himself along, agonizingly, over the floor with the tips of his digits. “Starscream…” He breathed, reaching the Seeker and pulling him into his arms, clamping a servo down over the wound. Starscream’s helm lolled on his shoulder as Orion felt the back of his gown. It was dry. “It didn’t go all the way through. He can be saved, Megatron. Please… an ambulance…” But he was staring up into optics without pity.

“He’s far too much trouble for that.” Megatron shook his helm and turned away. “But who knows? There are caretakers in these catacombs. They might find you.” He began walking and Orion felt his spark blaze with a sudden hatred. 

The gun Starscream had taken from his pocket came easily to his servo. Starscream might have been innocent – or even naïve when it came to the weapon – but he wasn’t. He had killed before. He would kill at least once more.

The bullet took Megatron in the back of the neck. A clean shot that severed his spine. As the boss writhed and died, Orion collapsed slightly. He was losing a lot of energon. At least it felt like he had managed to stop Starscream’s own wound from bleeding. If only they could hold out a little longer, someone had to have heard all the noise their chase had made. Three reports were nothing to be sneezed at.

Orion looked down at Starscream, and caught his expression. It was surprisingly peaceful, as if he hadn’t shot himself. As if he was just sleeping. The former detective leaned his helm on Starscream’s and sat there, waiting as the darkness clouded his vision and he couldn’t see his precious Seeker anymore. He kept his servo clamped over the wound, kept Starscream clamped to his frame, and his optics finally blacked out.

 

 

Orion woke in a hospital berth, surrounded by machines. Blinking, he tried to make sense of his surroundings as he looked around. There were wires and bags, but the slow, steady beeping of two heart rate monitors were all that he cared about. Looking over, he spotted Starscream – lying deathly still – in his own berth. There was a brace wrapped around his middle, but he was alive. Knowing that, Orion was able to pass out again in peace. 

 

When he woke up again, Ratchet was fussing over him. “Orion, can you hear me?”

Orion blinked owlishly up at him. “Turn the damn lights down.”

His old friend wearily chuckled. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“Starscream?” Orion hesitatingly tried to lift himself up.

“Your spark mate is fine.” Ratchet soothed his worries. “Out cold, but fine.”

Orion hissed as he leaned up. “…So, we’re alive.”

“Yes. Some of the monks found you after you passed out. They got you to a hospital, saved your lives.”

“Good.” Orion sat up fully and spotted Starscream lying in the berth next to him. “Ratch, can you leave me and Stars alone for a minute?”

“Sure. Go easy on that hip.”

As soon as Ratchet had left, Orion got up, ignoring the ache, and went to sit beside Starscream. 

“Primus, Stars.” Orion whispered, stroking his servo. “You’re going to be all right. I promise.”

Starscream’s optics fluttered. “…Orion? Are we in the Well?”

Orion chuckled. “No, Starscream. We’re going home.”

 

Prowl was their next visitor, and he brought a new pack of Royals and a bottle of bourbon whiskey. “If I know you, you want a smoke and a drink after all you’ve been through.”

“Thanks, Prowl. Perfect.” Orion poured out three servings in paper cups and the three mechs toasted each other. “How’ve you been?”

“Busy. We’re trying to locate the person who shot Megatron after he shot you two. I don’t think we’ll find him, though. Rounding up the rest of the Decepticons isn’t going to be easy, though. I think we need Iacon’s best detective on the case.”

“…I’d love to come back to the Force, Prowl, but there’s someone I have to take to Capris first.” Orion reached over and held Starscream’s servo. They had pushed the two berths together into one and were snuggling carefully.

“Take all the time you need. The more we dig into the records Megatron kept, the more we find.” Prowl saluted. “Don’t get drunk in a hospital, you hear?”

“We won’t.” Orion promised, tossing his empty cup. 

When Prowl was out the door, Starscream lit a cigarette up and held it for Orion. “Capris, Orion?”

“A songbird mentioned you always wanted to see it.”

“That songbird wasn’t wrong.” Starscream laid his helm against him.

 

Of course, Ratchet had a fit when he found the bourbon, but he never did figure out the cigarettes. They went through the whole pack while they recovered, until Orion sat up one morning and didn’t see Starscream beside him. Looking around, he finally spotted the Seeker leaning on the doorway of the balcony, looking down over the bay. 

His hip still twinged a little when he got up and went to stand beside Starscream, looking over the water. Without a word, Starscream pulled out the dog-eared pack of Royals and offered him the last one. Orion put an arm around him while he lit it, but he put the cigarette between Starscream’s lipplates for the first puff.

They smoked the last cigarette low and slow, neither mentioning the fact that the smoke tasted just a mite stale.


End file.
